


Trencher Fed and Scatter

by TheAzureFox



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: F/M, Found Family, M/M, Pining, Realistic Pokemon AU, based off of Renaerys’s Tamerverse, slowburn, this is gameverse despite Gou and Koharu being here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-16 06:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 49,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21503296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAzureFox/pseuds/TheAzureFox
Summary: A region full of bloodthirsty competition finds itself in the control of a charismatic dictator. His sinister intentions have kept his country under fanatical control, locking the region in a never-ending cycle of ignorance and adulation.Rising up from the footprints of his corruption are seven individuals: each of whom have their own reasons to topple the man perched atop a golden throne. But what awaits their fates is not the glory and vengeance they seek: rather, it’s the perils of politics, lies, and all the silver-spun schemes laid in-between.They say that to move a puppet you must first pull its strings. But when the puppet pulls back, not even a region full of myths can prevent the chaos that follows.
Relationships: Beet | Bede/Yuuri | Gloria, Dande | Leon/Sonia (Pokemon), Gou/Koharu, Hop/Masaru | Victor, Mary | Marnie/Onion | Allister, Olive | Oleana/Rose | Chairman Rose
Comments: 27
Kudos: 77





	1. Prologue: Silhouette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I’ve played through the Sword and Shield games, I can finally start working on this behemoth of a fanfic. 
> 
> Trencher Fed and Scatter is a gritty take on the Galarian games that is based exclusively in Renaerys’s Tamerverse universe. If you aren’t aware of what the Tamerverse is or are looking to read some god-tier Pokemon fanfics: I highly recommend you check out her works! I’ve read all her works and I love them to bits and pieces and I’m beyond ecstatic that I’ve been allowed to write for her universe!
> 
> If you want to know more about what the Tamerverse is: it’s the Pokemon world if Pokemon followed the rules of reality alongside the presence of supernaturally-powered creatures. People can and will get hurt. Things like cannibalism and murder do occur. But, while the series features a dark take on the Pokemon world, it also focuses on the “light within the darkness” of that world, providing a particular emphasis on the humans inhabiting that world, their struggles, and how they overcome them.
> 
> Tamers, in particular, are humans with a particular affinity towards a special type of Pokemon. This affinity grants them special powers as well as the special ability to connect well with Pokemon of their specific elements. For example, a Sylvan is a kind of Tamer that has influence over grass-type Pokemon. Their special ability includes seeing the “lifelines” of living things to be able to identify life forms and see into the distance.
> 
> If you would like to get more in-depth on this universe: [check out Renaerys’s summary page](https://renaerys.tumblr.com/pokemon) or her works [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renaerys/works). It should be noted that outside knowledge of the Tamerverse should not be necessary as I intend to explain things on her universe as I go. However, if you would like to learn more about these ideas or concepts, please do check out her works because I guarantee you that they are well worth your time to read.
> 
> Regardless, this fanfic in particular takes place in the Galar region of the Tamerverse. It involves the Galarian cast and will focus specifically on them. However, my interpretations of the cast will vary in order to adjust to this universe. An example of what I mean by this (and which is readily observed in this prologue) is that I have made adjustments to Shielbert’s, Sordward’s, Oleana’s and Sonia’s characters so as to flesh them out and make them more believable as characters. There will also be an emphasis on characters and plot and all romance featured here will be slowburns unless otherwise established.
> 
> With that all said, enjoy!

* * *

_"Backwater town where nothing happens_  
_Don't let disguises fool you_  
_Evil is coming from everywhere_  
_Destroying all that we believe is good_  
  
_...There is no mercy, compassion in the world_  
_Embrace the chaos, for in the end that is all_  
_Now the universe is broken, lost its course_  
_Turn your back on all you have loved for it is_  
  
_Gone in a second, ultimate destruction_  
_God are warring, sorrow neverending_  
_Endless chaos for an eternity_  
_Welcome to the abyss."_

[(Dissidia Final Fantasy Duodecim - God of Fire)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W22HGJzNa0M)

* * *

**Prologue: Silhouette**

* * *

The Slumbering Weald is a place of myths and wonder.

It is a forest densely packed with trees and foliage, an area of mystery embedded in a world sleepily tucked away from the rest of Galar. Not a Pokemon is to be seen inside the depths of the woods, not a sound to be heard from a place that should be filled with the call of racketing Thievuls and the crow of roosting Corviknights. Instead, there is only trees and never-ending silence, white tendrils of mist shrouding the landscape in something horror-esque as the dozing weald listens to the sounds of approaching intruders.

Leon steps into the forest with purpose, his Charizard by his side. The orange dragon walks alongside him, parting its jaws to taste the air as it flicks out its tongue. It keeps its wings tucked at its sides as it peruses through the forest, slitted eyes staring at the gaps in the trees and lips peeling back as if to threaten away an invisible entity. The great creature lashes its tail, fire spilling up from its snout, and the great beast hums with a ceaseless growl in its throat.

The purple-haired man senses the distress of his beast, feels the way Charizard tenses and fidgets as they progress through the stretch of fog-cloaked woods. As a full-blooded Titan, a Tamer with control over the great dragons that roam the lands of Galar and beyond, he shares a connection with Charizard that those around him cannot hope to match. He has full control over the beast, able to twist it to his whims as it prowls alongside him. And, as powerful as Charizard is, as _magnificent_ as the orange dragon is, with all its flaming fury and coiled muscles rippling with power, the thing is no match for Leon’s control over it. So, instead, it humbles itself to his level, walking alongside him and doing its best to keep guard over its owner.

Beside him, clutching onto the knife strapped to her waist and keeping a wary gaze trained on the forest surrounding them, is Sonia. The red-haired woman is just as jumpy as he is, green eyes sweeping around her only to occasionally meet with the gold of Leon’s own. Leon recognizes this woman as his childhood friend, as his _closest_ friend, in fact, one whose mere presence gives him reassurance even while trekking through the depths of woods unknown.

Sonia was a Sylvan, a specific variety of Tamer who manifested control over the likes of grass-type Pokemon. Like those of her ilk, Sonia holds the ability to read the lifelines of a forest, to see far into the distance with her enigmatic powers and to spot what could not be visible for them hundreds and hundreds of yards away. However, they had long since tested her powers since the moment they had entered the forest. But, just like when she was a child, the conclusion that she has come to tell Leon is much the same: “I cannot see into the forest.”

It troubled him, truly, that Sonia’s powers could not guide him in this moment of need. He always relied on her ability to land him out of trouble, to see beyond horizons full of ceaseless trees and identically sloping hills in order to lead him to shelter. Sonia, unlike him, had a wonderful sense of direction, the kind of direction that did not match his own like the bumbling, broken compass that he was. Leon admired her for that just as much as he admired her for her chiming laughter and her charming smarts which dumbfounded him like no other.

And it was perhaps for those smarts that he had her to thank for this terribly eerie journey into the Slumbering Weald. She was the first one to have noticed the plight that struck Postwick when they were away in Wedgehurst, secluded into the town next door as Postwick fell victim to something evil. It was her powers that had allowed her to clue in on the beginnings of a force beyond their comprehension, of a tragedy unfolding just several dozen miles away.

Postwick had burned to the ground. It’s people fled to the safehaven of Route 1, trapped between their burning civilization and the gates of Wedgehurst closed in a panic. Professor Magnolia, Sonia’s grandmother and renowned professor, was protecting the group as best she could in Leon’s absence. Fighting alongside Magnolia would be Leon’s parents, both of whom were just as strong Pokemon trainers as Leon was himself.

But the real tragedy was not the burning town. Rather, it was the aftermath of the occasion. Six children had been abducted by a pair of monsters, taken without warning and unable to be harmed by the likes of the town’s people’s Pokemon. Leon had arrived in the town to the sight of broken bodies, brick buildings shattered like foam, and the crying voices of Pokemon who had tried to stop the madness but who had been caught up in an attack almost akin to a bombardment of bombs.

Leon curls his hands into fists, feeling his nails bite into the skin of his palm. He hates ruminating on things that have already occurred, on the events of the past that haunt him like a nightmare. He has things to focus on. He can’t get distracted here.

As if sensing Leon’s distress, four figures walking ahead of him glance back at him in varying intervals. Of these four individuals, two Leon is familiar with and two he is not.

The two he knows are Rose and Oleana. A pleb and Crystallos alike, the pair are a rare combination. Leon knows them both well, though he knows the former much better than the latter.

Rose - more formally known as Chairman Rose - is a man of many thoughts and many words. He is charismatic, a shining beacon of everything Leon admires and hopes to be one day. The man stands tall even in the face of adversity, surveying the Slumbering Weald with caution rippling in his face and a hand on the pokeballs attached to his waist. Even without the status of a Tamer, Rose stands tall and ready, unwilling to be cowed by the likes of misty forests and their all-too-silent interiors. However, when his gaze falls upon Leon, his green eyes light up with a warm kindness, reassuring the Titan even in the midst of all the chaos and anxiety that spikes through the air.

Unlike Rose, however, the Crystallos woman merely views Leon with cold indifference. Oleana, ever a woman of few words, is quite an oddity. Though she sports the icy tendencies of her people, cold to the touch and able to form things out of ice with a mere thought, she also sports a seething anger more akin to that of the fiery Ignifers. Frankly, Leon knows little about her. And, he probably prefers to keep it that way. A Crystallos made of fire and ice is a force to be reckoned with, after all, and Leon knows more than enough about his Titan heritage to avoid pissing off the likes of her.

Beyond Oleana and Rose, however, are two Adamantine twins who guide the four of them like lost puppies through the woods. Dressed in tailcoats of blue and red and sporting eyes of molten silver are Shielbert and Sordward, two brothers with supposedly aristocratic names whose mere presence makes Leon even more wary than he already is.

Sordward, the leader between the two twins, has his hair shaped in the image of a sword. A long ponytail of white hair sweeps down from behind him, ends curling at the base of a red ribbon as if to produce a hilt. Leon finds the resemblance to a blade uncanny, almost unnerving and yet bizarre, though he holds little room to comment. The Aegislash at Sordward’s side makes certain of that, humming with an aura of power that somewhat unnerves Leon even with Charizard beside him.

At Sordward’s side is his brother, Shielbert. And, much like his brother, the hairstyle worn on his head is perhaps a thing of mystery. Crafted into the likeliness of a shield, his hair sports two strands curling outwards with the help of a surplus of hair gel, the rest of his long hair cut and pampered into a curved point. A Bronzong hovers after the man, its bell-shaped body hovering above the ground as it sidles beside its master, a low chime echoing from the chambers of its body as it moves arms crafted from flexible steel and glows with a pink light.

The twins had converged upon Postwick just shortly after Leon and his companions had, their eyes alight with a strange kind of knowing. They spoke with words that Leon barely understood, spoke in rhymes and riddles, myths and fairy tales, but had taken Leon under their wings with the promise of help so long as he followed after them obediently.

If he's honest, he knows little of these twins but he knows enough to just barely recognize them. They are aristocrats by nature, part of Galar’s upper elite, and they have no trouble deferring to Chairman Rose as if he is the natural leader of Leon’s party. It makes Leon uneasy to see aristocrats such as these leading the charge, acting as if the world makes perfect sense and Leon is just too daft to notice it. It unnerves him, but it also infuriates him. There are lives on the line, children to save and yet here they are treating this like some sort of-

“Leon?”

The man looks over to Sonia and watches the way her green eyes glitter. She is stepping in time beside him now, arms still crossed yet her lips pursing in that thoughtful way of hers. She looks as she always does when she’s about to express concern, eyebrows furrowing and a sigh heaving from her lips as she reaches out a hand and alights it upon his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she tells him in that voice of hers, always glowing with a warmth Leon can never stop basking in, “we’ll find him.”

Her Sceptile nods its head in agreement, appearing from her side to stare at Leon with its yellow eyes. The creature is Sonia’s oldest companion, but it is also familiar with the likes of Leon. If Sonia were not its trainer it was likely that Sceptile would be under his control, eager to be commanded by the likes of one with the blood of a dragon. But Sceptile was Sonia’s through and through and, even if Leon holds the ability to turn the creature against her, he would never imagine doing such foul-hearted things to break the bond between her and her proud creature.

“I know we will,” Leon takes her hand in his, feels the palm of her hand with his fingers and rubs his thumb against her own. “We have to. I won’t let myself live otherwise.”

From up ahead, Oleana shoots them a scathing look. “We’re not just here for your brother,” she says. “We’re here for the other children too.”

“I’m aware,” Leon says, ignoring the sudden bite of anger that snaps at him like the unexpected pull of a wave. “But I have to save Hop first.”

“Selfish, are you?” Oleana narrows her eyes, always the antagonizer of their relationship, and presses her ruby lips into a fine impression of smudging blood. “And here I thought you’d be a little less inconsiderate of those around you.”

“Hop is family to him!” Sonia says, bristling in that way of hers when she hears something she doesn’t like, nostrils flaring and hands waving erratically. “Of course he’s going to put Hop ahead of the other children. Who wouldn’t?”

“You’d be surprised at how many people put others before their own family,” Oleana sneers. “And, when it comes down to it, a relationship borne by blood will only ruin you in the end.”

“ _Oleana_ ,” Rose’s firm voice sounds from beside the woman.

The woman snaps her attention to the dark-skinned man beside her, hands placed in front of her as she closes her eyes and bows her head to Rose. Leon watches the instant change in her persona, watches the way Oleana’s arrogance washes away in exchange for cold demurity. He almost despises the way she changes her tune on the turn of a nickel, acting subservient to the man before her. Yet, she still tosses Leon a frosty look, not entirely cowed by the man who has reigned Oleana in with only her name on his lips.

“What a piece of work,” Sonia mutters beside him, her hand tightening against Leon’s. “I get that she’s concerned about the children but the way she says it…”

“It’s just like her.” He murmurs back, keeping his voice low enough so that Oleana can not possibly hear their words. “She acts like she runs the world.”

At that, Sonia snorts, clearly enlightened by the seriousness of Leon’s words. The woman puts her hands on her hips, sticking her tongue out at Oleana when the woman’s back is turned, and then flashes him a reassuring gaze when she notices his face has yet to crack a smile.

“Cheer up, mate,” she says, squeezing his hand and rubbing shoulders with him as if to provide a source of comfort. Then she turns her head to call to the twins leading their party, asking in a loud voice: “Are we getting close yet?”

“Not much further, Miss Sonia.” Leon watches as one of the two twins, Shielbert, falls behind to join them. He stands in front of Oleana and Rose, his Bronzong following behind him as he enlightens the four of them with his presence. “We are getting closer though. We have to be.”

“‘Have to be’ isn’t a very reassuring statement,” Oleana turns her cold gaze to the man. “Are you sure you know where we’re going?”

From up ahead, Sordward turns to look at them. “The Slumbering Weald Shrine isn’t much farther,” he states. “I’m sure we’ll find the children there.”

“And my brother?” Leon asks.

“Him too."

“What a tragedy for those kids to have been taken,” Sonia says. “And what a pity I can’t track them in this forest.”

The man in the red tailcoat looks over her. His steel-colored eyes glitter with an ominous light, seemingly full of knowing. “These woods are said to be beyond our understanding,” Sordward states with firmness in his voice. “It doesn’t surprise me that a Sylvan such as yourself cannot see the lifelines of the forest here.”

“But even still it troubles me,” Sonia muses, eyebrows furrowing. She closes her eyes, scowling at empty air, before she shakes her head and frowns. “These woods don’t seem like anything special. I mean, sure, it’s misty as hell and I can’t tell where I am but that doesn’t mean my powers should be dampened so easily. It annoys me...and frustrates me. Shouldn’t there be a way around this?”

Shielbert clicks his tongue. “There is no way around it. The forest works as it does.” His voice lowers. “Besides, as I’ve told you before, this place is evil.”

Bronzong hums a low note, almost as if agreeing with the statement.

“They say, once, that the Shrine of the Slumbering Weald was where an ancient cult prayed,” Sordward says, speaking as if to begin a speech. “This cult prayed and prayed and they prayed so hard that their wishes came true. They had asked for deliverance, asked for a way to ascend the gates of heaven to talk with the creator of the world, Arceus freely. But the deliverers that came were not what they expected.”

“Two beasts came from the mists of the Slumbering Weald to answer their prayers,” Shielbert continues, painting a picture for the narrative at hand. “And these beasts caused genocide.”

Sordward nods, seemingly watching the way his audience leans closer, listening, as they trek through the weald. “They massacred those who had called to them and those who had not. They were monsters, reapers who took lives without feelings or emotions. One monster in particular bared a sword of extreme power, able to cut down anything in its path. The other bared a shield said to deflect any attacks made on its brother entity back on the people. Together, they were unstoppable.”

“However, when a brave knight tricked the two into fighting each other, he was able to steal the sword and shield which made them whole. He made them powerless, defenseless, and slayed the beasts where they stood.”

“But monsters never die.” Sordward says softly, almost as if remiss. “They become reborn, feeding from the blood of the people whose lives they've devoured. And the two monsters who appeared from this shrine, Zacian and Zamazenta, live on to this day.”

Leon ponders the tale laid bare before him. It is a classic tale, the likes of which he’s never heard before. Yet it rings with the same impossibility as the myth of the Darkest Day, a mere story meant to spook youths into bed and invoke terror in the helpless masses. Still, Leon finds himself unsettled by the nonsense of such untrustworthy individuals.

Fingernails bite into the skin of his palm and Leon realizes Sonia feels much the same. She’s biting at her lips, the pearly whites of her teeth showing as she twists the end of the strand of hair which settles along her left cheek. It makes him feel relieved to know he’s not the only one at the edge of his nerves in this mess of a forest. He runs the tips of his fingers against her knuckles, trying to express his sense of gratitude for her staying alongside him yet again.

If Sonia gets his subtle message, however, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she coils her red hair around her finger until it tightens like a piece of rope, stringing and unstringing it as if lost in thought.

“A very fine story,” Oleana speaks, looking as undisturbed as ever. “But I’m afraid we aren’t here to indulge in your fairy tales. We’re here to rescue the children who were stolen.”

The Adamantine twins look her over with indifference. Oleana seems to bristle at that, snowflakes bursting to life all around her, before Rose puts a hand on her shoulder and the woman instantly calms her icy temper.

“That we are, Miss Oleana,” Sordward says with a lilt of amusement, eyeing the hand on Oleana’s shoulder and expressing his knowing in a cat-like smile. Oleana shows no offense to the insinuation at hand, the snowflakes around her burning into water droplets as they pitter down all around her. “I apologize for the delay. The Slumbering Weald is a vast place, one perhaps beyond your comprehension.”

“This forest is indeed a place of mystery, as the Sylvan has already pointed out,” Shielbert adds, tossing a casual look to Sonia. “And you would be wise to heed the warnings we are laying out before you.”

“My Froslass can handle anything that comes her way,” Oleana says, tilting her chin up as she produces a Pokeball in her hands. “I see no reason to fear. Monsters or no.”

The twins exchange a look.

“Think what you like, Miss Oleana,” Sordward hums. “But it seems you don’t know the meaning of what a monster truly is.”

Shielbert’s Bronzong whirrs with a strange noise, hypnotic yet soft, and Leon tenses as the shape of a shrine manifests before him. A strange archaic structure looms in the distance, a stone dais enclosed by an arch full of runes sitting in front of a still lake. Here, the canopy of trees parts to reveal an empty hole where filtered sunlight strikes the haze of mist seeping into the air. Moss and lichen spread across the structure while a stone pedestal sits at the far end of the round stone dais, encrypted with strange letters almost impossible to read by the naked eye.

However, what is more alarming is the youths jumbled together at the center of the dais, herded onto the silver pedestal and clinging to each other like the frightened children they are. The kids tremble, whining like a pack of Nickits, and huddle together. They’re all crying, yelling, _sobbing_ for help.

But help is too late.

Two monsters circle the pack of children, eyes glinting in the darkness of the mist. Light glints off sharpened teeth and hooked claws, their silhouettes nothing more than slithering shadows in the darkness of the fog.

Sordward acts first, sending out a hand as he calls: “Aegislash, Hyper Beam!”

The sword pops out from the shield it holds on its black ribbons, forming a ball of light in front of its eye that shoots off and away to barrel into the fog. The beam of light hits one of the monsters in the mist and, to Leon’s surprise, seems to pass through the shadow which dances before them.

“Careful!” Sonia cries out, voice strangled, “That’s Leon’s little brother right there!”

And, indeed, in the cluster of children is a boy Leon recognizes quite well. Hop, Leon’s younger brother, is bawling among the tangle of kids he’s nestled in, golden eyes glistening as his gaze falls upon Leon. Hop shoots upwards, joy flush in his face as he shuffles forward and cries for the man.

“Lee!” He whimpers. “Lee, save me!”

Leon nods, almost trembling in relief when he realizes his brother is _alive_. “Charizard!” Leon shouts. “Rescue Hop!”

His dragon lifts itself off from the ground, wings beating, before it charges forward, swooping down to capture the boy it knows so well in its arms. However, before Charizard can even reach Hop, one of the shadows drifting in the mist shoots forward. Leon sees the glint of teeth, the flash of claws, and then, suddenly, Charizard is being hurtled backwards by an invisible blow. The dragon hits a tree and then slumps downwards, struggling to regain itself as it splutters white-hot embers from its mouth.

Hop cries out in fear, stepping forward, but he is held back by the hands of a young boy who drags him back in and shakes his head, sobbing Hop’s name as he clutches Hop close. The dark-skinned boy struggles, shouting and fighting, but is soon swarmed by the other children, each of whom are pleading Hop not to take a step further.

A soft yet eerie howl fills the air. The shapes within the mist turn to face Leon, their eyes glinting in the haze, before they leap into the air. Leon spins around just in time to avoid his head being smashed in by giant claws, rolling into a nearby tree. He winces horribly at the sharp pain that shoots into his shoulder seconds later.

He looks up just in time to watch as one of the shadows steps into the light for a moment, its blue pelt glistening with dewdrops, before it hurtles itself back into the mist and continues its dance.

“ _Zacian_ ,” Sordward spits, appearing beside Leon to curl his lips. His Aegislash hovers beside him, its singular eye narrowing as it glows awash with purple light.

Shielbert joins his brother, frowning immensely. “Send out your Pokemon!” He tells Leon. “We’ll distract them so you can grab the kids!”

Leon watches as Sonia’s Sceptile jumps into the fray, rushing forward with its claws extended as it attacks the shadows slithering through the fog. Oleana sends out a Froslass to do her bidding while Rose calls upon his Copperajah, the elephant roaring its declaration of war as it charges heedlessly into the mist coiling all around them.

Snarls rip the air as the two monsters jump through the mist, seemingly unaffected by the barrage of attacks sent their way as they twist, turn, and then unleash moves of startling power. The precision and accuracy of which Zacian and its twin move astounds Leon, frightens him even, and he flees to Charizard’s side to take stock of the situation as his partner struggles to stand.

“Are you alright?” He asks his partner. The dragon nods, stretching out its wings, testing them, only to spit out fire from its nostrils as it ascends into the air. Leon nods at it, racing forward with it at his side as he races to where the stone dais awaits. Sonia falls in line with him, perched atop her Sceptile, and she nods at him as her Pokemon races forward.

The two barrel forward, passing by Shielbert and Sordward, both of whom are more focused on distracting the shadows dancing before them than worrying about Leon’s and Sonia’s approach. The Titan and Sylvan pass by, moving forward until they reach the stone dais.

Before them, staring upwards at Leon and Sonia, are the group of children doubtlessly abducted from the depths of Postwick. Their voices are adrift with pleas for help as they watch the adults, fingers stretching out with desperation. Sonia reaches for the children with kindness in her eyes, whispering promises of safety while Leon approaches Hop, bending down to welcome his brother into his arms and-

Suddenly, the air spikes with chilling cold. Leon shudders, his breath collecting into fine mist as something haunting sets the air ablaze with burning ice.

Suddenly, Leon is ripped from his brother’s side and tossed into the air. He spins, spiraling and spiraling, until suddenly his back hits against a tree and he slides down it, spit flying from his mouth as he falls to the ground in a daze.

“Lee!” He hears his brother calling for him, practically _sobbing_. “Lee! Lee!”

From the mist emerges the creature with a blue pelt. It strides forward, power in its every step, its head lowering as it parts its jaw to taste the air. Scars litter the thing’s body, white in color yet ghastly in appearance, striped across its pelt like reminders of a fight from too long ago. The monster is reminiscent of a wolf in shape, sporting the body of a canine but towering well above the humans it walks among. From its neck, just below its sharpened cheekbones, two ribbons flare behind it, blowing in a nonexistent wind, only to rise up like twin scorpion tails poised to strike.

Leon hisses as Zacian approaches him, baring his teeth despite the fear that washes over him.

The eldritch wolf parts its lips to bear down upon him, sneering. The man reaches for the Pokeballs strapped to his torso when Zacian scoops him up in its jaws and slams him down into the ground.

The man screams an ear-piercing scream, writhing on the ground, and it’s as if the pain has consumed him, eating away at all his rationality as he wriggles like a worm on the ground.

“Lee! Lee!” Hop breaks free from the kids holding him back, rushing forward to reach for Leon. However, Zacian snarls at the boy, its red-ringed eyes of gold glowing with something _angry._ Hop _screams_ , backing away with a tremble in his voice as he pleads: “Don’t hurt Lee! Hurt me! Please! Hurt me instead!”

The wolf lowers its head, its pink ribbons waving erratically as it lowers its head and growls at the boy. It sends the poor thing scrambling backwards, making him whimper with fear as he’s herded back onto the pedestal with the other children. Leon watches the way his brother is pushed back by the beast, shaking off the paralysis of his muscles just as Charizard descends to his side. The orange dragon snarls at the way Zacian opens its jaws at the children, watching as the wolf mouth unfurls as if to launch forward and swallow Hop whole.

However, a green blur dashes forward, driving Zacian back with furious attacks. Sceptile fends off the monster as its owner dashes in to grab the children settled on the dais, her arms held open as she yet again tries to grab for them.

A red shape hurtles through the mist, lashing a leg at Sonia and sending the woman flying back. A second wolf appears with a pelt the color of blood, spikes peering up from along its spine. It wears the same ghastly white marks as its brother Pokemon, standing tall as it prowls forward with a howl. A flare of blue fur extends from its head, hidden beneath the plates of red that coat its neck in a protective layer. A long blue tail flows from behind it, lashing as the beast jumps forward, mouth open to bite down upon Sonia.

Leon watches in horror as the woman sits there, frozen, one of his hands reaching out to try and save her, somehow, from the jaws of this beast, when a blast of icy wind sends the creature flying back.

In front of Sonia appears Oleana, the brown-haired woman curling her lips at Sonia as her Froslass joins her side.

“Try and pay more attention to your surroundings!” The woman snaps at Sonia before running on ahead. “I don’t want to have to save your dumb ass again!”

Sonia offers no response to that and it’s a testament to how shaken up she looks. Sonia looks pale, all the color drained from her face as her Sceptile joins her side, nudging her upwards. She regains her footing, legs noticeably shaking. Her eyes bear the same haunted look from an era long ago, gaze dazed, before she falls to the ground yet again, clutching her arms around herself.

Leon struggles to his feet, using Charizard as a support, and then stumbles across the misty forest. Charizard guides him, keeping an eye on the wolves that fend off the attacks of the other Pokemon on the field, and leads him to where Sonia is. The woman doesn’t even recognize his approach, shaking like a leaf as she curls in upon herself, staring at the ground and refusing to address him.

“Sonia,” he says, swallowing.

His hand touches her shoulder.

The woman jolts, slapping his hand away and scrambling away. There is fear in her eyes: a wild, deep fear akin to the likes of feral monsters. Sceptile ducks to her side, hissing at Leon as he takes a step forward and launching itself between the both of them, on all fours with its tail raised as if to strike him. Charizard huffs smoke from its nostrils, lowering its head and peeling back its lips. Sceptile snaps at the orange dragon in return, grass blooming at its feet as it bristles, ready to defend its owner if necessary.

Leon sighs, holding up a hand as he directs his gaze to Sceptile’s. He doesn’t have time to deal with its overly-defensive behavior, especially not when it's reacting to its owner’s emotions. So, he channels the blood inside him, calling upon the power of a Titan as he forces Sceptile to relax. The dragon descendant cannot resist his control, getting onto its hind legs and bowing to him as it backs away from Sonia, gaze transforming into something of indifference.

The man plods closer to Sonia, carefully, keeping his control on Sceptile tight as he approaches Sonia. The woman is running her fingers through her hair, shrinking back from him as his shadow falls over her, and it's then that he knows what he has to do.

Leon has to protect her and keep her out of harm’s way. This is a battlefield. He cannot risk losing her when eldritch beings such as Zacian and its brother are fighting to _kill_. So, he turns to Sceptile, nodding his head at the beast as he forces it to scoop Sonia into its arms. Sceptile ignores the way Sonia struggles, thrashing like a caught Magikarp even as her beast coos to comfort her.

Leon sweeps out a hand. “Take her away from here,” he tells the dragon descendant, watching as Sceptile’s tongue flicks out from its mouth when it lowers its head in obedience. “Get her somewhere safe.”

Sceptile shoots off and into the forest, Sonia captured in its arms. Leon watches it go, knowing he will likely find it again outside the woods where it will be waiting for further orders. He runs a hand through his hair, sighing, and watches as Charizard gives him a sideways glance.

“There was no other way. She won’t listen to me in that state of mind.” He shakes his head. “We’ll deal with her later. For now, let’s save Hop.”

“ _Graowl_ ,” Charizard nods its head, turning to where Zacian and its twin are fighting off against Shielbert, Sordward, Rose and Oleana. All four of them have switched out their Pokemon by now, two Sirfetch’d sparring with Zacian while a Frosmoth fends off the wolf with the pelt of blood.

Leon scans the battlefield, creeping forward as he looks for an opening. The children on the dais watch with wide eyes, hugging each other for comfort. Hop is among them, clinging to a boy and girl who sit on either side of him and yet looking at Leon with longing in his eyes. Young Hop’s cheeks are streaked with tears, eyes looking puffy even at this distance as the boy watches him, waiting for Leon to swoop in and save the day.

Appearing by the man’s side are Oleana and Rose, the two sharing a knowing glance at him as their gazes slide to the shrine. Then, Rose frowns, glancing around Leon. “Where’s Sonia?” He asks.

“She’s unable to fight at the moment,” Leon responds. “I had Sceptile take her somewhere safe.”

Oleana looks over him, those frosty green eyes of her scathing him with ice. She crosses her arms, seeming as if she’s about to snap at him for something, before she frowns and turns to Rose. “Should we rush in while our Pokemon are distracting those things?”

“Of course,” Rose nods. He looks at the woman and Leon, his gaze glistening with that vivid determination of his, before the three of them rush forward towards the stone pedestal.

Leon passes by Zacian and the red-pelted wolf, slipping closer and closer to the dais. Hop watches him from afar, the boy’s face brightening as Leon reaches for him. The boy lifts up his own arms, fingers extending for Leon to grab. Leon wraps his arms around the boy, pressing him to his chest, feeling his warmth against his own, and Hop practically _sobs_ into his clavicle, hands fisting up Leon’s black shirt as he whimpers.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Lee!” Hop says, nestling closer. Then he whispers: “I was so scared.”

“Shh, _shh_ , it’s okay now,” Leon runs his hand through Hop’s hair, soothing him, before he straightens up.

Beside him, Oleana grabs a girl into her arms while Rose grabs a boy in his. The other girl tumbles over to Oleana, clinging to the woman’s lab coat until the woman hoists her up into her arms. Rose does the same for a second boy, juggling two kids in his arms, while the last one of the bunch approaches Leon, sniffling loudly as he reaches for the man.

“I don’t want to die here!” The poor thing cries, hands reaching up as snot slides down from his nose. Leon’s gaze softens as he picks the boy up with his other arm, shifting his weight to accompany the two. The man clutches the two boys tight, holding him firmly against him, before he steps off the dais, ready to break into a run-

And two howls takes the air moments before Leon loses his grip on the children and is sent flying yet again. This time, however, he’s caught by Charizard, the orange dragon descendant catching him in midflight. He thanks his Pokemon, twisting around to see what has become of Hop and the boy he rescued.

To his horror, Zacian holds Hop in its mouth, picking him up by the scruff of his shirt as it carries him back to the dais. On its back is the other boy, gripping into Zacian’s shoulders and screaming for help but unable to do a thing. Its twin carries two of the children in its mouth, both girls, while the other two children - both boys - remain on its back.

“What do they want with those children?” Rose asks, standing up and wiping at bloodied lips. Oleana is beside him, acting as his support despite the way her legs wobble under his weight.

Leon drops down beside them, Charizard hovering above them. He looks ahead of him, watching as the eldritch wolves settle the kids back on the pedestal, surrounding them and growling at the kids when they try to scramble away.

In the distance, Leon sees Shielbert and Sordward continuing the fight in their absence, commanding their Pokemon to draw away the beasts from the stone dais.

“I don’t know,” Leon says. “But if we don’t act soon, my little brother might not make it out alive.”

Oleana looks at him, mouth opening, before she shakes her head and closes it. Snowflakes gather around her, drifting in the air, before Froslass joins her and chases them away with a gust of ghostly wind. “We need to get these children out before those things do something.”

“But how?” The Titan asks.

At this Shielbert and Sordward come to join their little group. Sordward looks over them, stroking a hand through his ponytail. The man seems unruffled by the battle unfolding before them, his Aegislash looking worse for wear as the enchanted sword hovers dutifully by its master’s side. His brother, however, looks somewhat shaken, a hand on his Bronzong as he stands.

“I-I think it’s about time we finished this,” the man with the red tailcoat says. “Brother?”

Sordward nods, rolling back his left sleeve to reveal black band with a sparkling white stone inside. Oleana inhales sharply at the sight from Leon’s side, a chilling aura glistening around her as she narrows her eyes.

“Why do you have that?” She asks the man. “Those aren’t available to the public.”

Sordward glances at her, dismissive. “That’s none of your concern.”

The woman bears her teeth, sparkling crystals of ice flaring to life all around her. “It _is_ my concern. _I_ made those and _I_ get to decide who _uses_ them and who _doesn’t_.”

Sordward turns his back on her, baring his band as he recalls his Aegislash. Leon watches in amazement as the stone in the man’s wristband sparkles, making Sordward’s Pokeball glow awash in light until it literally _grows_ in size. A rainbow sheen threads its way through the Pokeball, dancing with color, and Sordward sends the Pokeball spiraling back. The item explodes, unleashing a cloud of luminance that fades away to reveal something startling.

Aegislash appears from the dazzling particles. Only, it’s not the kind of Aegislash Leon’s used to. Instead, the sword that hovers in the air is _gigantic,_ perhaps the size of several mansions stacked on top of each other.

Something eerie sparks in the air, a strange surge of power pricking at Leon’s skin. The Titan feels himself shaking, unable to comprehend what’s occurring before him, before twin howls take the air. Zacian and its brother Pokemon snarl at the Aegislash, bristling with a power of their own as they charge the creature.

“This should suffice.” Sordward turns to Leon and his companions. “Go ahead and fetch the children. Zacian and Zamazenta should be distracted enough by my Dynamaxed Aegislash that they should forget all about those kids. Hurry now, rescue them before those monsters realize my plot.”

Rose and Leon nod at the man, rushing forward, and then Rose stops all of a sudden. Leon follows him, glancing back, and sees the man staring at Oleana. The Crystallos woman has created a knife of ice from her powers, her gaze trained on Sordward with an anger unlike that of which Leon has seen before.

“ _Oleana!_ ” Rose snarls, as if sensing the woman’s intentions. However, the brown-haired woman seems not to hear him, raising her weapon up to strike Sordward.

Before she can do so, however, a pink aura stops her from moving forward. The woman freezes in place, held in time by the psychic power that emanates from Shielbert’s Bronzong and forced to drop her knife. The woman thrashes in the grip of the Pokemon, snarling, but is thrown into Rose’s arms. The dark-skinned man restrains Oleana from breaking free, ignoring the way cold ice creeps up his arms as he holds the woman in place by the skin of her wrists.

“Keep your bitch on a leash,” Sordward sneers.

Leon narrows his eyes at the man, opening his mouth to defend her - _Oleana_ , of all people! - when Rose answers for him.

“Don’t insult Oleana like that,” Rose all but growls, ignoring the way his skin is turning red from frostbite. When the woman finally calms, she seems to take notice of the damage she is causing him, breaking away quickly.

“I’m not a dog to be chained,” Oleana mutters, breathing in deeply to the point of shedding off her temper. She turns to Rose and Leon, dismissing Sordward as she tells the two: “We need to rescue those children for now.” She looks over her shoulder. “Then I’ll deal with _you_.”

Sordward huffs at that, turning to his brother, and then Oleana guides the two men forward, dashing towards the shrine yet again as the children watch them, waiting, too afraid to leave the pedestal they sit upon without help. Leon follows in her footsteps, his eyes trained on his younger brother as he approaches. From behind them, he can hear the snarls of Zacian and Zamazenta as they clash with the giant hovering sword, the wolves attacking the thing with fangs and claws as they try to mitigate the threat. Seeing the sight is enough to assure Leon that, this time, he will be able to scoop Hop in his arms and bring him to safety.

Charizard joins him, flying above his head, and he is grateful for the beast’s protection as he races to where Hop lies in wait. The orange dragon must sense his fondness for its presence as it gives him the impression of a smile, teeth showing from its mouth as it flaps its leathery wings.

The Titan smiles back, racing to his brother’s side with hands reaching for the boy. Hop reaches back for him, leaning forward to grab at him despite the way the other children are pulling him back.

However, before the man can reach his brother, something strange occurs. A brilliant light blossoms up from the pedestal, blinding Leon and sending him reeling back as he staggers, an arm held over his eyes. He hears Rose cry out, feels the icy chill of Oleana’s aura, and then all at once the light dissipates, no longer eating at Leon’s eyes through his eyelids.

He peels open his eyes, staring at nothing but white, before color paints his vision gradually, forming the misty image of the Slumbering Weald and that of his brother. Only, Hop is no longer staring at him but, instead, at the kids around him. All six of them are looking amongst each other, confused and babbling, spouting nonsensical words, before the howls that spill into the air silence them completely.

Zacian and Zamazenta abandon their quarry, red-ringed eyes of gold resting upon Leon, Rose, Oleana and the children laid before them. The wolves stare, silent, before the mist sweeping through the Slumbering Weald curls at their feet, tendrils wrapping around the wolves until the creatures become obscured from view. Leon watches as the wolves transform into shadows, their silhouettes standing still in the white particles adorning them, before they shimmer and disappear in their entirety, gone and vanished.

The man lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, bending down to pick up Hop in his arms. The boy clings to him, sobbing, and Leon rocks him back and forth in his arms, promising reassurance as Oleana and Rose come over to him, each holding a child in their arms while the other three scramble after the pair.

Sordward and Shielbert appear from behind them, clapping their hands. At Sordward’s side is his Aegislash, back to normal size. It looks positively exhausted, its black ribbons twitching erratically as it moves.

“It seems like you’ve got the children under your control,” Sordward says.

“However, you didn’t act fast enough,” Shielbert sighs, placing his fingers to his forehead and scowling at them with scorn. “And now you’ve put those children in danger.”

“In danger?” Leon hugs Hop close to him. “What do you mean?”

“Ah, nothing you need to worry about at the moment.” Shielbert waves a hand. He turns to Rose. “But I think we need to have a talk with you, kind sir.”

“No,” Oleana stands in front of Rose, “ _I_ need to talk to you. Why were you using _my_ Dynamax Bands? Do you know what those things can do? Do you know how much danger you just put us all in?”

“We know the cost of using those things, if that’s what you’re implying,” Sordward raises up his arms in an exaggerated shrug. “Now, as I believe my brother was saying, we want to talk to _Rose_ not _you_.”

The kids tugging at the tail end of Oleana’s labcoat begin to bawl, rubbing at their eyes and shaking tremendously. The woman’s eyes soften at the sight of them. She bends down to their eye-level, holding up a hand for them and manifests a giant snowflake on her open palm. The kids quiet, staring in awe at the way the snowflake drifts from her open palm, glittering. They reach for it as it comes to hover above their heads, eyes wide in fascination.

“If not for these kids right now,” the woman tells Sordward, her eyes blazing an icy green, “I would tear you to shreds.”

Sordward scoffs. “Sure you would.”

A spire of ice grows from behind Oleana, shooting upwards out of the ground and landing at Sordward’s feet. The man takes a step back, frowning immensely, but does not comment on her action, instead tightening his lips into a flat line as he looks at Rose.

The dark-skinned man is watching the display with a smile tugging at his lips. Then, he turns to Sordward and Shielbert, flashing Leon an apologetic look as he herds the kids at his side in the man’s direction. Leon bends down to welcome them, urging Charizard to greet them as he rocks Hop in his arms. Seeing the kids placed into the Titan’s care, Rose bows his head, turning to Oleana and addressing the both of them as he says: “Take the children back to Postwick. I need to talk to these two for a moment.”

Oleana nods, picking out one of the children of the bunch - a young boy who eyes her with curiosity - and holds him carefully in her arms as she directs the children to follow her. She turns to Leon, nodding at him, and the man herds his own bunch after her, holding Hop close to him as they travel.

Behind them, scouting the woods, is Charizard. The orange dragon settles itself into the air, staying adrift as it blows away the mist blocking their path. Oleana’s Froslass and Frosmoth follow at their flanks, the ice ghost and white moth looking out into the woods with narrowed eyes as they help to lead the procession.

A yawn sounds from Leon’s arms and the man watches as his younger brother curls up against him, nestling to the man’s chest as the boy fights off sleep. Leon rocks him in his arms, watching as Hop’s eyes close, and the Titan notices with a pang how puffy Hop’s eyes are. The boy’s face is a mess of snot and tears happily strung together while his nails are encrusted with dirt.

“That’s your brother, huh?” Oleana speaks, her voice light as her icy green eyes scan over the boy in Leon’s arms.

“Yeah.”

“I can see the resemblance.” Oleana falls quiet for a moment. “What happened to that woman?”

Leon frowns at her. “Sonia?”

“Yeah, her.”

“She wasn’t feeling well. I had Sceptile take her away.”

The woman’s eyes narrow, creating the barest hint of a chill in the air. However, her gaze flicks to the children gathered at her feet and, as if sensing something, she lets her icy aura dissipate.

“Is that all?” She asks.

He meets her gaze, evenly. “Yes.” He says. “It is.”

The woman hums, her eyebrows furrowing just the slightest bit, as if contemplating something. She scowls. “It’s just like a Titan to lie through his teeth.” Her cold gaze meets his. “Tell me, what’s wrong with that woman?”

“Nothing.” He tilts his chin up. “Nothing is wrong with her.”

“ _Lies_ ,” is her scathing response. “I’m well trained in deceivement, Titan. And, I can tell when someone wants to hide something from me.”

He doesn’t respond to her, instead keeping Hop to his chest as they peruse through the Slumbering Weald. Oleana lets the subject drop, refusing to press onwards, but he can sense her judgemental gaze on his back as he passes her. She’s more than aware of his ploys, of that he’s certain. Still, he presses onward, refusing to be daunted by her as they trek through the forest.

When they emerge, Sceptile is there to greet him, an unconscious Sonia still in its arms. At its side is an elderly woman who wears spectacles upon the bridge of her nose. She is leaning on her cane, hands resting on the wooden Corvisquire which roosts at the top. Her piercing green eyes greet Leon as he manifests from the depths of the forest, Oleana and six kids in tow.

“I see you found them,” Professor Magnolia says, her voice rasping with age. “I also see that my granddaughter was not spared the casualties.”

“And for that, I apologize.” Leon bows his head to her. “I didn’t realize that she would…”

“Yes. Well. Neither did I.” The woman looks over the boy in his arms. “Regardless, now is not the time to dwindle on such thoughts. Those kids look tired. Let’s bring them to Wedgehurst straight away.” She pauses. “Do you all have any Pokemon that can carry the kids? They won’t make it all the way over there with just your strength alone.”

“Charizard can carry three children,” Leon says, nodding to his dragon. He then looks at Oleana. “Could your Milotic carry the other one?”

“Yes,” she says. “That should take care of the extra.”

“Good.” Magnolia nods her head.

Oleana recalls her Froslass and Frosmoth and then tosses out a Pokeball. A beautiful serpent appears from the sphere, emerging with a pretty call that immediately sends the kids around it eyeing it with fright. They cling to Oleana, murmuring amongst themselves, before Oleana herds one of them in the direction of the creature. It lowers its neck, grabbing one of the kids by the scruff of their shirts, and when the poor thing trembles Milotic repeats its beautiful call to soothe the child in its grip.

Leon turns to the rest of the children, beckoning them forwards as Charizard lands beside him. The kids step forward, beckoned by Oleana, and they climb onto Charizard’s neck. Leon makes sure to keep Charizard under control, careful not to let the beast scare the kids as the climb upon its body, and then he lets the creature take flight into the air, staying aloft as Oleana keeps the last kid in her arms and Magnolia waves them onwards.

Sceptile follows after them, Sonia still in its grip. Leon calls the Pokemon closer to him, his gold-eyed gaze sweeping over the woman. He frowns at the way she squirms in her Pokemon’s arms, her eyebrows knitting together and a sheen of sweat on her face. He reaches out a hand to run his fingers through her hair, humming, and he makes sure to keep Sceptile under his tight control, gaze flicking to the beast whenever he feels it waver.

Magnolia joins him as he looks over the woman, a finger playing with the yellow cord of her spectacles as she frowns. “Did she…?” The woman begins, voice trailing off.

“Yes.” Leon nods. “But I’m going to fix it.”

The woman bites at her lower lip. “Even still...I worry it won’t be enough this time...”

“She’ll be okay.” He says, firmly. “I won’t have it otherwise. She’ll go back to normal, I promise.”

Oleana sends the two a frowning face. Leon meets her gaze, eyes narrowing, and she backs off with only a scowl in their direction. The woman cradles the kid in her arms - a young boy who hugs her left arm insistently - and continues on her way.

Sighing, Leon looks down at the boy in his arms. Hop is still resting peacefully, slumbering without a care in the world. He smiles down at the child, cradling him protectively, and thanks his lucky stars for the boy’s safety.

~~~  
  
A few hours pass. Leon and Oleana take shelter in Magnolia’s lab just on the lakefront of the town of Wedgehurst. There, they set the children loose, watching in forlorn as the kids cluster close together, begging for Leon and Oleana to stay by their sides. They are forcibly put to rest by the song of Oleana’s Milotic, sent to sleep so the two can escape.

Leon’s parents are there too, fussing over Leon briefly before they go to find Hop, embracing the boy in their arms and crying over him as he remains sleeping. They look after Sonia too, watching over the woman as she sits tucked into her bed, yet to awaken.

Meanwhile, the rest of the adults group up in Magnolia’s living room. Leon explains the events to the professor there, recounting his experiences in the Slumbering Weald. Oleana joins in on occasion too, recollecting her side of the tale, before the two of them finish and leave Magnolia twisting the cord of her spectacles in silence.

Finally, the woman faces them both, gaze clouding over as she asks: “And these beasts? You sure those twins called them Zacian and Zamazenta?”

“Yes,” Oleana nods her head.

Magnolia furrows her eyebrows, humming to herself. Leon wonders what the woman could possibly be thinking.

“They were powerful Pokemon. _Very_ powerful.” He laces his fingers together. “I’ve never seen Pokemon like those before, Professor. I was thinking you might have some ideas on what they were, however?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have any information on them.” Magnolia shakes her head. “I’m just as dumbfounded as you that they even exist.”

Leon pinches his eyebrows together and heaves another sigh. He leans back in the chair he’s sitting in, crossing his arms and wondering just what, exactly, he’s got himself caught up in. However, answers are few and far for him, the mystery of the wolves in the mist something he still can’t wrap his head around even an hour later.

When Magnolia brings him a bottle of rum to settle away his thoughts, he takes it with haste, uncorking the bottle and placing the glass rim to his lips. The bitter taste settles well on his tongue, setting his nerves at ease as he relaxes into his seat. Across from him, Oleana accepts a glass of water, shooting a disapproving look at the container in Leon’s hands as she takes a sip from her own beverage.

A knock sounds at the door and Magnolia is quick to answer it, the elderly woman shuffling over to open it up. At the entrance stands Rose, the man peering into the room with a sheepish smile as he’s escorted inside.

“My apologies for the delay,” he says. “I got held up by those two twins.”

Oleana looks over him, her gaze seemingly fixating on the dirt stain on his right cheek. Leon wonders if that was there before. But, he finds he doesn’t really care enough to ask, chugging down his rum with greedy gulps.

Still, the woman across from Leon taps her fingers on her knees, pursing her lips as she abandons her drink to greet Rose. The man smiles at her, brightening, and the woman merely raises an eyebrow at him, beckoning him back to the couch to take a seat among them. Magnolia follows behind the pair, leaning on her cane as she observes.

“So,” Leon says, wiping at his mouth, “what’s the news? Learn anything more about what the hell just happened?”

Rose shakes his head. “There was not much to glean from them, I’m afraid.” The man waves a hand. “Rather,” he says, growing somber, “how are the children? Are they faring well?”

“They’re scared out of their minds,” Leon admits. “We could hardly convince them to let us go. We left Oleana’s Milotic and my parents behind to watch over them. But, that won’t last us long. Not when witnessing something like that could traumatize them for life.”

“If I may, I have a suggestion.”

Magnolia adjusts her spectacles. “Do tell.”

“I have a friend in Glimwood Tangle.” Rose says. “She might know more about what happened today.” His gaze lands on Leon. “Especially on things like why your brother was involved in this...this _attack_ and what the other children have to do with the event that took place today. And, she’ll help put those kid's minds at ease.”

There’s a hovering moment of silence as Leon observes the man, cocking his head. “Go on.”

“We’ll take them there straight away, have them meet her to talk with her. That and…” Rose intertwines his hands. “There is something else we must do with them. Something important. We need to do it quickly, too, or else places other than Postwick will fall soon enough.”

“What do we need to do?” Leon asks.

The man taps his fingers on his knee, rubs the back of his neck, gives Leon a haunted look. “We need to-”

(And Leon feels himself shattering to pieces.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trencher Fed** : A hunting term used to describe hunting hounds that, though raised as individuals, are brought together to work as a group on hunting days.  
>  **Scatter** : A hunting term meant to explain the spooking of a group of turkeys in all directions only to later gather them back at gunpoint.  
>  **Silhouette**. The hunting term for a two-dimensional decoy.
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Everything here is a lie :>
> 
> If you liked this prologue and are craving more of this variety of Pokemon AU’s, be sure to check out Renaerys’s works and support her!! Much of what is written here (and what will be written) is entirely inspired by her works! So, I highly suggest that if this seems like your kind of thing that you check out her works! I personally admire her Tamerverse series very much and could probably praise them ceaselessly if you let me. 
> 
> I also have a tumblr [ @SylvanSonia](https://sylvansonia.tumblr.com/) where you can feel free to yell at me for writing this fanfic. Or just feel free to yell at me for anyone in the SwSh cast, really :P


	2. Heading A Fox I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An introduction to the cast, part one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire chapter is long. Very long. Much too long. 50k+ words long and still unfinished in its entirety kind of long, actually. 
> 
> I've debated for a long time as to whether or not I should split this chapter once I reach a certain point or if I should wait until I finish the whole thing to have it posted. I chose the former, obviously, if only because I feel like having a chapter the size of a NaNoWriMo novel posted is kind of over the top.
> 
> There's a chance I might eventually combine both parts into one in the future, however, but as I am now I think I'm satisfied with having two parts to the opening chapter of this story. So, for now, have fun enjoying part one in its entirety as I work on part 2 in the background :Dc
> 
> Do be warned though that this chapter gets pretty dark! Things aren't black and white in this world just as they aren't in the real world. Therefore, do note that things will get pretty gritty at times and that nothing here is intended as shock factor moreso than it is a part of the world. That said: enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter One: Heading a Fox I  
**

* * *

_10 Years Later…_

Spikemuth City reeks.

Of course, it’s never _not_ reeked with the smell of something. Booze, cigarette smoke, and even the scent of something rotting lingers in the air, permeating the city with a ceaseless stench of foulness.

Buildings forlorn and crumbling line the street, sitting in the pretty image of poverty with their shattered windows, spray-painted walls, and a scatter of garbage that rolls across the ground like a horde of mistaken tumbleweeds.

Creeping through the shadows of Spikemuth, eyes glinting and teeth shining, are the wild Pokémon of the city. Feral Linoone and Zigzagoon crawl through the dilapidated streets, claws clicking on upturned pavement burnt by flames and fractured by weeds too persistent to die in cracks made of asphalt. The black and white creatures hiss at anything that looks their way, puffing themselves up with snarls of apprehension.

Roosting on rooftops near the point of collapse are a flock of Mandibuzz and Vullaby, the vultures nesting at whatever place of horizontal worth they can get their claws on. Their bald heads bobble from above walls of steel, beady taking note of anything that catches their attention. Occasionally, they fall to the ground to peck at bodies fresh with blood, cawing loudly as they enjoy slimy meat torn straight from the skeleton.

The individuals that lurk within Spikemuth are not to be deterred by the badgers which scurry like mice or the vultures that seek anything now dead to eat. Instead, they glare at any menace they deem worth their attention, tense and bristling at any threat they perceive in their vision.

Tamers and plebs alike flock in the streets, searching every nook and cranny as they cling to spears and swords. They move carefully, slithering through the shadows of the street as they search. Their gazes are wary, forms made rigid as they creep and crawl in uniforms stitched from pink and black.

Watching over the humans are their Pokémon: a ragged mix of everything from twittering Corvidees to sneering Obstagoons. The assortment of monsters stand proudly at their owner’s sides, quick to act in sync with their masters whenever the illusion of a threat enters their presence.

Walking among the streets of the city, bothered by neither the wild Pokémon nor the horde of ever-moving individuals, are an elderly woman and her older brother. Both of them walk through the streets with a kind of otherworldly grace unbefitting of their age, twin sets of green-blue eyes glistening with a cold light that flickers with the thoughts of things incomprehensible.

The woman wears a black leather jacket devoid of shine, a dress stained with a faded shade of pink, and silver earrings worn with age. Her graying hair is pulled up into ponytails by red ribbons that have long lost their luster, floating like forgotten streamers in the wind as the woman crosses her arms and taps her elbow with fingers dyed in black at the nails. A black and orange hamster with beady black eyes sits atop her shoulder, gnawing ceaselessly at the Leppa Berry in its paws as it keeps its ears perked and its teeth bared.

The Morpeko pauses to scratch at its yellow belly, sneering, and then continues to nibble.

Beside the woman walks her older brother, a man dressed in clothing perhaps more punk-ish in nature, what with his coat lined in Obstagoon fur and his hair dyed in an alternating pattern of black and white and slapped into a ponytail. Faded pants of pink and black leather accompany the length of his legs while boots devoid of shine clutch to his feet.

The mix of Tamers and plebs watch in fascination as the two walk down the streets, eyes transformed in all the colors of the rainbow staring upon the pair with stupefied awe. The siblings ignore such lingering glances, instead proceeding on their way until they reach a building made from solidified steel and painted black and pink: the proud colors of Spikemuth.

Marnie pays little heed to the stares she’s earning, instead drifting through the streets like a specter. Her every step is purposeful, her gait elegant, and it is hard to deny the way the residents stare at her and her brother like gods walking among them.

Despite the wrinkles forming on her skin, despite the way her body has become brittle – ready to break in a moment’s notice – the people of this town chatter endlessly about her arrival. There is glittering adoration in their eyes, ecstasy on their faces, and the cheerful murmur that takes the air as she walks settles the elderly woman’s heart with a strange sense of pride.

Regardless, Marnie is not here to tend to the fond chatter of her people. Rather, she is here on business, striding through the streets with duty nipping at her heels. She has no time to hesitate in her duties, just as she has not time to waver in the aftermath of a brutal surprise attack.

“Sir Peterson, Madam Rosemary.” A stout boy with a mohawk appears before Marnie and her brother. He bows low before them. “We have what you requested.”

“Thank you,” the man beside Marnie – Piers – says. He nods his head at the boy, smiling, and the youth beams in response. He rises, escorting the pair to doors made from metal, and opens them with a flourish to allow the two inside.

The two enter into the steel building, walking side by side and down a flight of stairs in utter silence. They move like ghouls through the darkness of the building, undeterred by the hiss of nearby clattering pipes or the skrittering noise of Purrloin who’ve thought it best to make their nests in the walls of the building. 

Morpeko hisses on the shoulder of the woman - Marnie - its yellow cheeks sparking with irritation as it clambers upon the girl’s head. The electricity leaching from the sacs on its face provides a fair source of light: something that is frankly unneeded for the siblings to find their way through the catacomb of stairs and hallways that descend into the ground.

Eventually, they wind their way to a chamber glistening with orange light. Two torches sit on either side of the waiting doors - as well as the two guards who eye Marnie and Piers with wariness. A Zoroark and Bisharp sit at either of their sides, looking relatively uneasy as they dip their heads in submission.

Absently, Marnie wonders if they can sense the smell of something beyond their understanding. She wonders if the two Pokemon can smell the death that wraps around the siblings like a second skin. Do they know about the blood that stains Marnie’s mouth or the rotting flesh that sits underneath her nails? Can they tell the things about her that are old and ancient? Can they see the way she’s warped and decayed over the years, fallen to pieces only to be held together by a level of _magic_ inconceivable to the average person?

She doesn’t have time to truly think about such thoughts or the implications stemming from them. Instead, she turns to the two individuals watching her, tilting her head as if to inquire for an answer.

“We’ve been awaiting you,” one of the two guards - a slender woman with long pink hair draped over one of her eyes, says. She jostles a spear in the direction of the doors to her right. “The prisoners are in there.”

“Right.” Marnie nods her head, turning to her brother.

“You first,” he says, wearing a tired – almost fatigued - look on his face.

She frowns at his expression, opening her mouth to comment, when she nods her head and instead pushes past steel doors. She steps into the inner chamber of the building and Piers follows behind her, humming to himself. Light flutters into the room for only a moment, torchlight flickering, before it is snuffed out as the doors behind them draw to a close.

There’s a blissful moment of silence, a murmur of certainty, and then high-pitched wails stake the air with moans of distress.

“Please don’t hurt us!” A voice screams, the sound of a woman babbling for safety.

“We didn’t do anything wrong!” Agrees the voice of a man along with the sound of tattered clothing rustling across the cold floor beneath. “You can let us go! We won’t do anything more, I promise!”

“Don’t you think it’s a little too late for that?” Marnie circles them, her hands behind her back. She observes the way they struggle in their binds, faces constrained by blindfolds moving to follow the sound of her footsteps.

“Indeed,” Piers leers, eyes dark and angry. “If you had any intention of leaving us alone, you wouldn’t have attacked us like you did.”

“B-But we’re not lying when we say we won’t do anything more!” The woman says, her voice trained to a whimper. “We didn’t have any bad intentions coming here, truly.”

“Yeah, no, saying shit like that won’t get you anywhere,” Piers brings his shoe down upon the woman’s back, digging his heel into her spine. She cries out in pain, whimpering like a dog. Piers presses down harder and Marnie can see the wetness staining the woman’s blindfold as tears leak down her cheeks. “We know better than to trust outsiders. Right, sis?”

“Indeed we do,” Marnie stops in front of the man, picking up his chin and watching the way he jerks from her grip. “Come now,” she says softly, “you should know the price for sneaking into our territory uninvited and killing our people.”

“Fuck you!” The man spits, lashing out with his head. Marnie takes a playful step back, allowing the man to writhe like a worm on the ground as he strikes at nothingness. 

“Mm, that’s not the way to treat a fellow Reaper.” The woman crouches down, picking up the man’s chin and digging her nails into his skin. He hisses at the sensation, writhing once again, but a quick shock from Morpeko sends him into reluctant submission. “After all, we’re all friends of the dark here, are we not?”

“That’s a sick way of saying you’ll eat us _whole_.”

“I’m glad to see you caught on.”

“So then the rumors of you two being cannibals are-”

“They’re true,” Piers pipes in with a happy hum, “absolutely true.”

“Arceus you two are _monsters_ ,” the woman whimpers. “What kind of Reaper would devour their own kind?”

“Ones that have a purpose in surviving for so long,” Marnie digs her nails deeper into the man’s skin, piercing flesh until rivulets of blood begin to drip. “You wouldn’t get it, supposedly.”

“Yeah, of course we wouldn’t!” The man tosses and turns in Marnie’s grip, snarling with pain, but to no avail. “Unlike you, _we_ have morales and live our lives as they’re meant to be!”

“I’m growing weary of small talk,” the black-haired woman says. “And, as much as I would like to snap your necks right now, I’m afraid I still need answers from you. You work for those twin Adamantine Tamers, do you not?”

“What’s it to you?” He spits at her.

She smiles a lazy smile. “I’m very interested in them. They’ve eluded me thus far but I know they’re watching me. They must be, especially if they’ve employed Reapers such as yourselves to come for my skin.”

“For all your talk of morales and shit,” Piers adds, “you two sure don’t keep a clean record.”

“Like hell ya know anything about us!”

“Alex Smith and Alice Walkins,” Marnie lists, watching as the two before her stiffen and still. “Two Reapers who’ve made a business killing and devouring other Reapers for shady employers. They say you’re just a hundred years old though. Which is funny because you two still toddle around like babies in the dark.”

“If our men were so easily able to subdue you then you must be doing a shitty job cleaning up the rest of our kind,” Piers adds. 

Marnie nods at him. “Which is why we’ll offer you two a deal. You tell us where your employers are and we’ll cut you loose. We have no need to eat quite yet and, frankly, we like more of a challenge to our meals.”

“But you just said that you’ll-”

“Eat you? Mm, yes, we did. But, we’re willing to be lenient to get what we want. Or, at least I am. My brother, on the other hand-”

Piers digs his heels into Alice’s back and the woman _screams_.

“-well, he’s not so patient.”

“ _Alright_ ,” the man spits. “We fucking get it. We’ll tell you shit if it means you’ll hold up your end of the bargain.”

“I’m pleased to hear it.” Marnie releases her nails from Alex’s chin. Piers relieves his foot from Alice’s back. “Now, where are your employers hiding?”

“Don’t tell them!” Alice begs her companion. “If you tell them we’re dead anyways!”

“Yeah, well, what else can I do in this situation, princess?” Alex spits on the ground. “Fine, you got me. My employers are going to be in Motostoke today, happy?”

She frowns. “And why are they there?”

The man falls silent. 

“I suggest you tell me before I go back on my decision to leave you any more unharmed.”

Alex curls his lips. “You’re a mean bitch, you know that?”

“Actually, I’ve been told I’m quite nice.” She pulls the man’s head by his hair. “Answer the damn question.”

“This wasn’t a part of the deal.”

“Well it is now. Talk or I’ll change my mind.”

“They’re looking for the same shit you’re looking for, I reckon. The Weapons of Old.”

“Hm. So they are.” Marnie releases the man’s head, letting it drop to the floor. 

She crouches down, releasing the man’s blindfold. Piers does the same for the woman. Both of them blink their eyes in the darkness, staring up at Marnie and Piers from their places on the ground.

Marnie waves a hand at them. “Go on now. I’m letting you go.”

From the woman’s shoulder, Morpeko sparks with warning, black eyes watching the pair with insatiable hunger. The hamster crawls along Marnie’s shoulders, teeth pearly white against the shroud of darkness which settles along the interior of the metal chamber. The creature moves with extreme precision as it hops off its master’s shoulder to gnaw at the ropes binding the prisoners. The fibers of the rope stretch and splinter under the rodent’s sharpened teeth, fraying fantastically until the loops of brown fall like Silicobras perished by a fatal blow. 

Alice and Alex look between themselves. The look they share is one of understanding tinged with fear, a special kind of look worn only by the likes of worms and prey cornered by their predators. Their gazes flick to the belts locked on to the waists of Piers and Marnie, eyes no doubt taking in the black and green spheres attached to their waists. Calculations run through the minds of the two, weighing the price of any action taken, before they get up, meekly, and scurry to the doors. 

Marnie watches them as she does so, Morpeko scurrying up her body to perch yet again atop her shoulder. The rodent watches with a strange kind of knowing as Alex and Alice prop open the metal doors, hands fumbling as they push their way through. 

Light funnels into the metal chamber, washing the silver interior with an orange glow. However, it takes only a second for that orange glow to vanish next to the sudden splatter of red that flits across the metal floor.

Alice and Alex freeze in place, invisible hands holding them where they stand like figures in a diorama. They stand there, uncomprehending of the way twin spears pierce into their flesh. The two Reapers fall where they stand, toppling over in a mess of crimson. The two guards standing watch yank their spears from the Tamer’s twitching bodies.

Marnie approaches the pair, smiling as she bends down to poke at them, childish delight twinkling in her green eyes. Alex twists his hand to look at her, anguish twitching in his face as he clutches at the wound on his chest and glares at her.

“You said...you said you’d leave us alive.”

“I did say that.” She hums. “But I didn’t say anything about my _guards_ leaving you alive.”

“You...you _bitch_. So that’s it then. You’re just gonna...eat us…?”

“Well, what else do you think I’d do? Let your bodies go to waste?” Marnie sighs. “I’m sorry to say this but we _really_ need to feed. If we don’t, we probably won’t succeed in our mission. And if we can’t succeed, you might as well be dead anyways. So, in the end, one little sacrifice here and there will be worth it. Consider yourselves lucky for being part of our plot to save the entire world.”

“That’s a shitty story,” Alice gasps for air, digging her nails into the ground as if to try and drag herself away. “What, do you think yourself a hero or something?”

“I don’t think it,” Marnie says. “I _know_ it.”

She digs her nails into the skin of Alex’s neck, feeling something raw and youthful leaking into her veins. A strange source of power emanates from the bloody wound blossoming on the man’s extremity, flowing into Marnie as she absorbs his energy. 

Across from her, digging his own nails into the veins on Alice’s neck, is Piers. The man has his eyes closed, focusing only on extracting the dormant power that lies within the flesh and blood of a Reaper. 

Then, when the bodies crumpled, lost of life, the two began to work on devouring the two, tearing away at the flesh and consuming it whole. Piers uses a knife to do so, extracting the flesh, while Marnie uses her own sharpened nails to peel away the skin, eating piece by piece until the noise of crunching fills the air.

Watching with a kind of fascination are the guards at the entrance. The two youths stare upon Marnie and Piers as if bewitched, sinful awe making them watch the way Marnie downs strips of flesh and how Piers licks at his bloodied hands. 

Their Pokemon, however, watch with a sense of wariness, the monsters retreating back as if unable to comprehend the _things_ which work before them. Zoroark flattens its ears, pressing itself against the floor of the hallway like a dog cowed by its furious owner. Bisharp, on the other hand, sends uneasy glances to the pair, the sentient body of metal stilling as if to try and fade from existence.

In a way, it is an utter irony to watch beasts of fur and living steel tremble away from the humans standing before them. If Marnie were to be philosophical, dabbling in the sentiments of petty poets and babbling writers, perhaps she were to write something about how even monsters can fear other monsters. Instead, she gnaws away at a piece of bone, ripping the flesh from it, and hands the leftovers to her Morpeko. The hamster greedily feasts from the remnants of the object, pearly teeth becoming stained by red as it scurries off to subdue its ever-lasting hunger.

Despite her misgivings, however, there is a lingering sense of something that nags at her, worming its way into her mind like wriggling parasites. Guilt lingers in every mouthful she takes, hesitation in every bite she swallows. The stench of blood curdles her stomach.

It’s nauseating, but Marnie knows she must power through it.

As she finishes, she feels a sense of youthfulness echoing in her bones. The woman’s brittle form lightens to something delicately flexible, wrinkles dissipating from calloused skin and eyes glittering with a potent energy.

When the transformation is complete, she marvels at herself: now trapped inside the body of a teenage girl. Her clothes barely hug her figure, drooping in awkward places and Marnie is thankful for the spare set of clothing settled away in a secluded corner for changing.

When she emerges, her figure cloaked in a smaller variation of her former outfit, she finds her older brother has already transformed himself in her absence.

Much like herself, the wrinkles that have donned his face are gone: vanished as if taken away by some miracle acne cream. The bags under his eyes – as well as the ceaselessly tired look that compliments his face – remains, however, giving him a look that calls for three nights rest as he wipes blood from his mouth.

“Satisfied?” He asks Marnie, shooting a dark look at the corpses still littering the floor. “That’ll keep you alive for another dozen decades or so.”

She snorts. “Might be less since _they_ know we’re onto them now.”

“What, those aristocrats?” Piers rubs his chin, musing. “Just because they sent a pair of Reapers here it doesn’t mean they know what we’re up to.”

“No, but they might be getting suspicious.” Marnie turns to the grunts waiting by the torches and gestures to the bones at her feet. “Clean these up, if you will.”

“Yes Madam Marnie,” the grunts say in unison, getting to work at picking up the bloodied bones and retreating up the stairs.

Their Pokemon follow with dubious glances in Marnie’s and Pier’s directions, hackles raised as they scurry after their owners. Marnie watches them go, pausing, before licks at fingers still bloody, unnerved by the sight of red underneath her nails.

“I think it’s time for me to make my move,” she declares, letting the words drop from her mouth as a needed distraction.

Piers squints at her. “Now?” He asks.

“Yes now.” She wrinkles her nose at the way blood stains the bottom of her shoes. “We don’t have much time left. If we don’t track those aristocrats soon we might not be able to stop what’s coming.”

Piers heaves a great sigh and she looks him over.

“What?”

He looks at her. “Do you really believe that you can stop what’s coming? Much less that it’s coming at all?”

She fixes him with a hard stare. “We’ve been alive for two hundred years.” She rubs at her temple with a finger. “We’re the only ones around who got the memo. Things are already coming into play too. The Champion-”

“Is minding his own damn business, sis,” Piers finds a spot on a nearby wall and leans against it. He pulls his ponytail into his hands, threading his fingers through it with idle vanity. “He’s playing dictator and too worried about keeping his people happy than he is being a threat to you. We’re just scapegoats to him, remember?”

“But he is the one _she_ talked about, is he not?” Marnie picks at the blood now drying under her nails. “He’s powerful as hell and holds a tight grip on the entire region. The moon is almost upon us and yet if we can’t find what we need…”

“We’re all doomed,” he summarizes. “Yeah, I know. It’s just...sometimes I think we’re chasing after fairy tales. Years and years of research have gotten us nowhere. We haven’t found what we’ve been looking for for decades. Maybe it’s about time we give up.”

“It’s too late to give up,” she sweeps her hand to the stairway. “It’s up to us, Piers, to stop what’s coming! We _know_ it’s coming! We saw it for ourselves!”

“Yeah, and for all we know we might’ve just been taken a little acid trip down hallucination lane.” Piers scowls. “Look, I love you sis but we aren’t getting anywhere. _Haven’t_ been getting anywhere since we started this ego trip two hundred years back.”

“Which is why we’re going after those aristocrat twins now that we’ve caught their scents.” She waves a hand. “Right?”

Piers gives a long exhale, rubbing his fingers across his forehead. He lingers in silence, unable to look at Marnie as he mutters: “Nah, sis. You’re going to chase after ‘em. I’m going to stay here.”

A flicker of something manifests on Marnie’s face. She bites her lip. “Even after all that we’ve done?”

“It hasn’t gotten us anywhere. Our efforts have borne no fruit. We’ve found no Wishing Stars and we’ve never managed to capture those twins to find out where the stars _are_. Face the music, sis. We can’t play heroes if we can’t prove some crazy bat’s bullshit is real enough to be solved.”

“So you’re giving up then?” Marnie says, anger biting her tongue. “Just like that?”

“It’s been _two hundred years_ ,” Piers snaps, his own irritation sending Marnie flinching. The anger in his eyes softens when he sees her shrinking back. He runs his hand through his hair, grimacing. “Look, I think all the years we’ve spent living are getting to our heads. It’s not natural for anyone - much less Reapers - to live this long. And on borrowed time no less. We haven’t made any progress in decades. This time will be no different.”

She stares at him, glaring at him. Her lips peel back as she turns on her heels, hands tightening into white-knuckled fists as she stalks away.

“Fine!” She says. “Fine, if that’s how you want it! Then stay! _I’m_ going to Motostoke to find those pompous twins at long last.”

“Marnie? Marnie!” Piers’s voice follows after hers. However, she ignores him to run up the flights of stairs that await her. When she hears footsteps pursuing her, Morpeko clambers around on her shoulder, unleashing a shower of sparks.

“ _Ow! Dammit!_ Marnie! Come back!”

Morpeko hisses, cheeks crackling, but Piers seems to have gotten the message. His footsteps come to a stop and, satisfied, Morpeko pulls out a nut from the sack on its chubby torso and begins to chew away. She lets the creature eat as it must, slamming open heavy doors with nausea eating at her system.

“Madam Rosemary!” A young girl says, bouncing to attention. Her hair and nails are dyed in a lovely shade of pink, brown eyes sparkling as she hugs the Zigazagoon in her arms. “Madam Rosemary, are you going somewhere?”

“Please, call me Madam Marnie.” She reaches out to rustle the girl’s hair. “I am,” she says, softly. She grabs a Dusk Ball hooked onto her waist, picking it off the belt strapped to her torso and tossing it out. A large brown vulture emerges, its head bald and pink and its neck lined with a mane of fine golden feathers. Bones circle its waist in a skirt-like pattern, red eyes sunken into its head observing Marnie with a cock of its head.

“Mandibuzz,” she says. The creature lowers itself to let her on and she climbs it, grabbing fistfuls of its feathers to climb onto its back. 

“Madam Rose-Marnie?” 

She looks at the girl sitting on the ground and peering up with eyes full of stars. “I’m going to be away for a little bit.” She tells the girl. “Before it’s too late.”

“Really? Now?”

“I’m afraid so.” Marnie watches as more people start to gather around, their eyes gazing upon Marnie and her Mandibuzz as she makes a spectacle of herself. She sees Piers’s face among them and, unwilling to waste any more time, she urges Mandibuzz upwards. 

The giant vulture spreads out its wings, sending out a gust of wind that makes the citizens of Spikemuth scatter backwards. Mandibuzz beats its limbs up and down, hopping forward to gain momentum. It lifts up, climbing into the sky, and it ascends to hover over buildings broken and crumbling like forgotten ruins. Marnie grips the feathered mane of her bird tightly, letting it fly away as she shouts over the winds rushing into her ears:

“To Motostoke!”

* * *

Victor wakes to the call of a Dubwool.

Or, rather, he awakens to the feeling of his very house shaking as the roar of a Dubwool sounds just outside his window. The very earth trembles with the imitation of an earthquake, a cacophony of _“baas”_ shattering the very silence which had encompassed all of Postwick only minutes earlier.

The man grumbles to himself, rubbing at his eyes and pulling back the covers of his bed. He stands up, moving straight for the door, but fails to see the dumbbell launched straight into his path.

He stumbles, falls, and lands – rather epically – on his face.

There’s a moan, one pitiful and yet self-deprecatingly amusing, and the man turns his head to gaze at the causer of his misfortune: one cackling Shiinotic.

The bulbous fairy mushroom pulses with a faint glow, sitting in the corner of his room with her black eyes shining in glee. Her root-like arms wiggle in the empty space around her, small spores of white sprinkling like dandruff from the underside of her pink cap.

“You’re a nuisance,” Victor tells her.

She chimes in response, fingers flailing. However, when he makes a move to reprimand her, she is quick to turn her back on him, scrambling up his bed and up to his windowsill to stare outside.

Victor rubs his temples, shaking his head as he comes to a stand. He casually nudges the dumbbell on his floor with the tip of his toes, finding no interest in its presence as he makes his way to the door.

He opens it, peering into the darkness of a sweeping hallway. He clicks to Shiinotic, urging her to light his way. She obeys, shuffling forward, and he picks her up and into his arms as he slinks through the hallway. His Pokémon glimmers with a faint light, acting like a living lantern as the green spots on her cap glow with a faint light.

The floorboards underneath them creak with their combined weight, making Victor wince as he passes by a room guarded by a sleeping Manectric. The hound glares at him with one eye open, growling, before it rolls over and otherwise ignores his presence.

The man steps down wooden stair steps, using a metal rail to balance himself as Shiinotic wiggles in his arm. The sentient mushroom coos in her typical eerie voice, tone the sound of distorted musical notes, but he has little time to bother with her familiar strangeness. Instead, he settles her on a nearby windowsill, letting her bask in the sunlight that comes peering in through the half-raised curtain. Shiinotic protests, pushing the curtain upwards, when Victor sighs and pulls the cord that shoves aside the curtain for her. She chimes her thanks, pressing herself to the window, and the man runs a hand through his messy hair as he steps through the front door and leaves her behind.

Already, the pinks and reds of dawn are arriving over the horizon and casting a curtain of faded orange light upon the land. Rolling hills and fields full of grass rustle in the glow of the approaching sun, murmuring with wind. Victor finds himself pausing to watch the way Postwick basks itself in a warm and fuzzy glow, something like misplaced nostalgia striking him as he stares.

Of course, that wistful feeling is soon destroyed by the vibrations that hum underneath Victor’s feet. The man groans, sticking his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants as he shuffles forwards and approaches a white picket fence to the left of the house.

The source of his disturbance – a Wooloo herd of roughly seventy-six sheep (Victor doesn’t count anymore: especially not when those things multiply like rabbits) – tramples merrily along a stretch of pasture bordering that of Postwick and the nearby Slumbering Weald. Their leader, a sagely Dubwool with a mean look to his eyes, _baas_ at the lot of them, chasing the unruly sheep into a circle.

The Dubwool’s owner, meanwhile, sits contently on the sheep’s back, happily nestling in the Pokémon’s wool as it romps around. Hop – Victor’s best friend and co-conspirator in all things fun – languishes on his Dubwool with a merry smile, laughing joyously as his creature totes him around with every jump of its stubby legs.

The sight of Hop smiling alone makes Victor want to throttle him.

However, Victor is quick to resign himself to a fate of misfortunes. He has hardly gone one day without waking up to the misery that is a stampede of sheep at six AM and this morning has eagerly proven no different.

So, leaning on the white picket fence set up before him, he grins to himself, cupping his hands around his mouth as he shouts “Good morning!” in the loudest voice possible.

The gleeful look in Hop’s eye turns to one of exasperation as his beloved Wooloo roll away in fright. The _baa_ ing sheep scuttle like crabs, departing from the side of their leader as they scatter away to other parts of the pasture.

Seemingly aggravated by the unexpected assault on his sheep, Hop urges his Dubwool in Victor’s direction. Victor waves in response, his growing grin impish in nature, and the look Hop sends him is enough to send his smile growing bigger.

“I had just gotten them all in order, too,” Hop sighs, greeting Victor with a shake of his head. His Dubwool stops at the border of the white picket fence, allowing Victor to reach out to poke his fingers into the puffy wool fleece of the Pokémon. “Did you really have to scare them like that?”

“It just makes it all the more fun for you to scamper around and wake the whole town up.” Victor replies with a tease in his voice. Dubwool turns on him, snorting, and he yanks his hand away just as the ram bites at empty air. “Come on, do you really have to do this at six in the morning?”

“You know I do. The Wooloo would declare war on the entire town if I didn’t move them to their grazing pasture.”

“That’s just an excuse and you know it,” Victor accuses. Hop’s widening smile only fuels his suspicions. “You just _love_ making me suffer.”

“Not my problem you’re not an early riser,” Hop teases in return, slipping off his Dubwool to hop over the white picket fence. The man pats Victor’s shoulder. “How’s the diary going? Have you remembered anything yet?”

 _The diary._ Two simple words that send Victor sighing.

He runs a hand through the brown locks of his hair, scowling. “What is this, an interrogation?”

“No,” Hop smiles at him again. “This is merely me being concerned.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying,” Hop’s voice takes on a false woe-is-me kind of tone, “I really am concerned! If you don’t write down your thoughts now, you’ll forget how you met the person of your dreams!”

“And who is that, pray tell?”

“A charming prince atop a white Dubwool,” Hop says, picking a ball of wool off his jacket and holding it before Victor. “One who with a smile that can make a whole room of people swoon!”

Hop smiles again but, unlike his previous smiles, this one is stuffed full of sparkles. It’s meant to be ruggedly handsome, Victor can tell, but he’s seen enough of Hop’s attempts to woo men his age to know that that smile is nothing more than a poisoned dessert made to tempt.

He reaches up a hand to flick his best friend’s head and Hop recoils in feigned shock. “Someone, help! I’ve been injured beyond belief by the mere touch of this man before me! Please help me before he sweeps me off my feet and carries me away!”

The dramatics of the purple-haired man send Victor snorting in laughter. Hop joins him with a giddy giggle, bouncing on the balls of his feet, before he suddenly remembers the Dubwool standing just behind him. He turns around, scratching the chin of the giant ram, and the creature nuzzles against his master with a soothing _baa_.

“So,” Hop says, his voice growing sober with seriousness, “still don’t remember anything, huh?”

Victor’s voice grows quiet. “Yeah.” He looks at his feet.

“It’s been four years and yet…” Hop pauses petting his Dubwool, turning to look at Victor. Golden eyes fixed with white pupils look over him. “Still nothing?”

“I’m afraid not.”

There’s a tentative pause. Silence unfolds into the air, creating an air that requires nothing but pitying glances and uncertain fidgeting.

Hop pats his shoulder yet again, his hand resting on the slope of Victor’s left shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he says, “you’ll remember everything one day.”

Everything being, of course, the memories that Victor has long since forgotten.

Four years ago, on a winter day full of snow and ice, Victor remembers waking up to the sound of voices warm and kind. He remembers seeing Hop looking over him, asking him the basic questions you always ask a stranger – _What’s your name? Where are you from? Do you have a number we can call?_ – and Victor failing to answer all of them.

“ _Amnesia_ ,” the doctors had declared when Hop and his family had taken Victor – fourteen years of age, then – to a local hospital.

Victor couldn’t remember his own last name. He couldn’t remember his home address or how he ended up at Hop’s doorstep, covered in snow and shivering to the bone. All he could remember was that his first name was Victor and that he was _alone_. He could recall nothing more.

In order to regain his memories, he’d been urged to start up a diary to look for “triggers” that could help him remember the things from his past. In the meanwhile, Hop’s family had taken him under their wing, eager to provide for him until he could recall what “home” really was to him.

“I hope I remember everything,” Victor says in return, unable to avoid the petulant tone in his voice as he rubs at his left wrist. He looks away from Hop’s inquisitive gaze as he does so. “It feels so weird not knowing who I am.”

Hop’s grip on his shoulder tightens. “I believe in you,” the man with the gold eyes says. “You can do it, mate.”

Victor puts a hand over Hop’s, feeling the cold, scale-like texture of his skin and smiling. “Thanks.” He says. “That means a lot to me.”

They stay like that for a few moments, neither of them wanting to pull away, when a loud cough sends the two jolting backwards into the picket fence beside them. Victor flushes, a heat creeping up his neck and seeping into the tips of his ears, and when he beholds the owner of the new voice he almost feels like dying.

A woman with hair the color of fire stands before them, dressed in a yellow petticoat jacket and wearing a black bag strapped across her shoulder. There’s a tease of a teal blouse underneath her attire, as well as the appearance of blue leggings that hug her legs as they descend down into black and white boots.

Sonia, a close acquaintance and Hop’s alleged babysitter (the woman bore _many_ arguments with Hop on _that_ particular subject) stands before them with exasperation in her green eyes. She’s crossing her arms, almost scowling, and Victor can already predict an onslaught of teasing that’s going to be sent his way.

Instead, however, the woman merely clicks her tongue. It’s enough to make Victor feel somehow guilty. She has always had that way about her of making him feel like he’s done something wrong. He’s never been able to figure out _why_ , exactly, that is (well, okay, that’s a bit of a _lie_ if he’s honest) but he does his best to remain confident in front of her.

“I expected to see you up early today,” the woman says to Hop. “But I thought you’d still be asleep by now, Victor.”

Hop grins a shit-eating grin and Victor rolls his eyes at him.

“What’s the occasion?” The man asks. Hop giggles beside him yet again, earning the purple-haired man a playful jab to the side. “Something happening today?”

Sonia pinches the bridge of her nose. “We’re supposed to go to Motostoke later today to meet with Leon. Did you forget that already, Victor?”

He vaguely (“vaguely”) recalls Hop’s persistent talks about his brother performing some flashy show in Motostoke. He rubs his chin, looking at Sonia in apology as he says: “Looks like it slipped my mind.”

The woman sighs an exasperated sigh. “How can you forget something so important? No, don’t answer that.” She holds up a hand as Victor opens his mouth. “I’m merely here to make sure you two don’t drag behind again. You do want to see Leon again after all, right?”

“Right!” Comes Hop’s cheerful hum. He jostles Victor’s side and the brown-haired man nods his agreement.

“Good.” She looks over the both of them. Victor can see the beginning of circles underneath her eyes. Briefly, he wonders why she never looks rested – especially since he’s never known her to do anything other than running errands and cleaning up her grandmother’s lab. “Now listen, you two. I have some things I need to do back at the lab but I’ll trust that the both of you will remember to come to my lab in three hours.” She pauses with a particularly vicious look in Victor’s direction. He holds up his hands, flushing again, and then Sonia continues. “Three hours from now, got it?”

“We got it, Nia!” Hop jumps over to her, grinning like the sun itself has infected him with its dazzling light.

“Alright Hop, I trust you.” Sonia ruffles the boy’s hair. She adjusts her black backpack strap, gaze flicking to Victor. He meets her gaze, unyielding, and then she nods, taking off down the streets of Postwick to do…whatever it is the granddaughter of a professor does.

He must have been staring a little too long, however, because Hop claps his hand on Victor’s shoulder and gives the man a look as malicious as a prankster. “Got eyes for her?” He asks.

Victor huffs. “No,” he says.

“Really?” Hop puts his hands behind his head. “I’ve heard she’s got quite a line of suitors lining up for her hand. It wouldn’t shock me if you had a thing for her.”

Victor’s gaze lingers on Sonia’s departing form. He had to admit she had a nice figure. Her eyes were really pretty too – like gemstones sparkling in pools of white. He didn’t doubt Hop’s words: Sonia definitely was the type to have men vying for her attention. But, his wandering gaze was focusing on her for a different reason.

She, like him, was a Sylvan. A Tamer specializing in that of the taming of grass type Pokémon, the woman was often the only person he could confide to in learning how to maintain his powers. And, while they are not close, he definitely considers her to be someone he respects.

And fears.

But, that’s neither here nor there.

“I think I’m going to try and write in my diary,” Victor says. Hop glances over at him, an eyebrow raising, but the man is already spinning on his heels before Hop can say anything.

Trekking back to the entrance of the house, he opens the door to find Shiinotic waiting. The glowing mushroom welcomes him as he picks it up into his arms, hugging it to his chest as he ascends up the staircase and ducks back into his own room.

There, he navigates his way to a desk with a leather journal placed at its center. A pen is already set in place beside it, waiting for him as he takes a seat and picks it up between his fingers.

Shiinotic sits in his lap, cooing to itself as it flutters its fingers and snuggles up against him.

Victor opens the pages of the diary, flipping through its contents. Idly, his gaze lingers on some of the passages. Words written in black ink decorate pages of faded cream, sprawling across the page in an almost incomprehensible scrawl as his gaze flits through the contents.

_Day 1. I don’t remember anything._

_Day 57: They said I should remember. They lied._

_Day 221: I’m getting worried. I don’t remember. I_ should _remember. Why don’t I remember?_

_Day 1098: I want to remember. I do. But I can’t. It’s hard. Why can’t I recall what’s most important to me?_

Victor sighs. He turns to the freshest page, feeling the way the paper wobbles in his grip. His pen twirls in his fingers. He contemplates, licking his lips to wet them.

 _Day 1566._ He writes. _I want to say I remember something important, I do. But I think I’ve given up. After all, like Hop said today, it’s been four years. When am I ever going to remember?_

The diary is devoid of a lock. But even without one, it won’t matter anyways. He has nothing to hide in that journal – nothing that wouldn’t cost him more than a few sympathetic conversations, honestly.

Victor shuts his diary. Shiinotic coos again, seemingly content, before it suddenly hums with an eerie power. Victor spins in his chair, alert to his Pokémon’s shift in attitude, when he finds Hop leaning over his shoulder.

His breathing quickens for just a second – as does his heartbeat. Hop’s golden eyes are looking at him, almost dragon-like in appearance as the man’s face remains a placid mask. He’s slouching over Victor, towering over the man in his chair, and his hands are in his pockets, allowing him the pleasure of having a crooked shadow that devours Victor whole.

There’s a moment of silence – of nothing said and nothing to be done – before Hop draws back, his coiled shadow following behind him, and the man changes his face to adopt a radiant grin. Sparkles dance from the corners of his lips, stars and other shiny things dripping like raindrops from his expression, but all Victor can think about is perfecting the smile on his own face.

“Hop,” he says, stroking Shiinotic’s head as she continues humming with an eerie power, “did you follow me in here?”

“Nah,” the boy says, words somehow distant to Victor’s ears. “Just taking a break.”

The brown-haired man tilts his head. “Giving up on Wooloo herding so soon?”

“Dubwool took care of ‘em,” Hop say as he straightens himself up. He places a hand on the edge of the top rail on Victor’s chair. His fingers drum a little dance on the polished wood, inching closer to the other man’s face. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Right.”

A pause. It occurs way too long for Victor’s liking.

“Sonia said to meet her in three hours, right?”

“She did.” Another pause. “What will you be doing until then?”

“Walking around, maybe. I think your mom needs some groceries picked up. What about you?”

“I’ll come with,” Hop offers. His hand retreats from the chair as he puts it and his other one behind his head. “Anything to help out mum.”

“Sounds good. If you’re up for it, of course. Could always use the extra hands.”

Hop hums an agreement. “I’ve got nothing better to do at the moment. Mum won’t give me any chores thanks to Lee’s announcement today so I’m up for giving you those hands to help.”

“I appreciate it.” Victor stands up out of his chair, watching the way Hop steps back. He grabs a nearby Pokeball and calls his growling Shiinotic back into it. Then, he approaches his wardrobe. “I need to get changed though. Do you mind if I do that real quick?”

“Hm? Sure, go ahead.”

Hop retreats out of Victor’s room, allowing the door to shut behind him. The brown-haired man watches for a second, hesitating, before he lets a shiver wrack through him. A breath of air leaves his mouth, leaving him almost shaking as he opens the door of his wardrobe. He peers inside, and is quick to grab the items he needs in order to shed the pajamas he wears.

The man changes quickly, exchanging silk pants for jean ones and slapping on a red collared t-shirt as he wears a white one underneath. A gray wool hat with a faded pattern fits snugly over his head, brushing past the tips of his ears as he puts on a pair of socks.

Then, when he’s finished changing, he stands up.

His gaze catches on a poster settled on the inside of the wardrobe and his gaze hardens. The poster depicts three individuals, each of whom are smiling and waving at the camera. Victor and Hop are pressing together in the image, an arm around each other’s necks. Standing above them, his Charizard roaring in the background as if to pose, is Leon, Hop’s older brother. The man is doing his famous Charizard pose, left hand pointing two fingers to the sky, the other hugging his left leg as he closes his eyes and looks towards the ground.

Victor stares at the image. And stares. Then, he gets the brilliant idea of raking his nails down the fabric of the paper, of tearing the image to little shreds until it rains down like confetti on the floor of his room.

Instead of tearing the picture to pieces, however, he shuts his wardrobe door and walks outside his room to greet Hop. The other man gives Victor a smile, instantly at his side as the pair move downstairs.

When there, they are greeted by Hop’s mother, Angelica. “Oh, look at you two, up so early as always,” she says in a doting tone as the emerge down the staircase that leads from the second floor to the first.

“We’re going to go grocery shopping for a bit, mum. Especially since Sonia won’t come pick us up ‘til later.” Hop says to his mother. “You got anything in particular you want us to pick up?”

“I have a list already prepared, yes,” Hop’s mother, almost always a meticulous planner, says with a fluttery smile. She disappears into the nearby kitchen, rustling around, until she returns with a list in her hands.

Victor takes it with thanks, smiling at the purple-haired woman as she adjusts the spectacles on her face.

“No need to thank me, dear,” Angelica says, handing Victor a basket in the process. “Now, be on your way then. Postwick’s market is probably already open by now I would think.”

The pair nod and then exit the house. They walk down cobbled streets through the interior of the town, Hop eager to point out a flight of Corvidees passing overhead while Victor notices of a trio of Skwovet’s led by a mother Greedent. Hop laughs at the latter, too easily amused by the way the squirrels all have their cheeks filled to the brim with berries.

If one were to gaze upon them now, perhaps they would see the two as being very close to one another. The way they teased each other, playful in their words and excited by even the littlest of things, surely gave the impression that they were best friends if not a pair of lovers.

But, it was hard to deny the fact that they were standing at a foot’s pace from each other, each tucking their hands in their pockets as they chatted and strode down streets made from rocks and stone. There was also the matter of an unspoken rule on how neither of them could seem to lose the smiles on their faces, both men beaming spectacularly at the gazes upon them.

It matters not, however, as when they reach the market they quickly find themselves too absorbed in the wares of vendors to wear such perfect smiles ceaselessly on end. Hop is quick to find the items on the list Victor holds, pointing out to the man all the booths that hold what they need, and Victor is quick to assemble a basket full of goods.

When they finish, Hop suggests they take a detour on the way back to his house and Victor obliges, careful to grip the basket tightly as the purple-haired man leads him to a long stretch of stone wall. There, he climbs onto the wall to sit atop it while urging Victor to sit alongside him. Victor obliges, sidling alongside his friend with their shoulders touching.

Behind them, the woods of the Slumbering Weald look on, silent in their presence as Victor stares at a wooden house toppled down upon itself.

“You know,” Hop says, “ten years ago, this house got destroyed by a pretty nasty earthquake.”

Victor looks at the building, bent and broken and torn asunder as it wilts under the man’s pitying gaze. Once, there had likely been people living inside that house. There probably would have been a family stuck inside the house when it came down upon itself, a mother and father and brother and sister shivering in their boots as such a phenomenon struck them from out of nowhere.

“It was quite a tragedy too.” Hop continues. “I heard a lot of people got killed in it and that Lee had to spend quite a lot of time raising money to get it all fixed.”

Victor looks at him. He’s never quite heard this story in all this time he’s lived here. Yet, it intrigues him. He’s always seen the house before him as nothing more than ruins. If what Hop was saying was true, wouldn’t the town have fixed this house by now?

He must’ve said that out loud as Hop gives him a nod and says: “For one reason or another, everyone left this house untouched. According to Sonia, the builders said it was bad luck to try and fix it. They all said it was cursed or something.” The man snorts. “Which is stupid. There’s no way a stupid ol’ house like this can be cursed.”

Victor nods. Then, when he sees Hop isn’t willing to continue the discussion, he pulls out two slices of bread from his basket and offers one to Hop. The man takes it without hesitation, eager to nibble on it, and Victor follows in his stead to bite from his own bread.

The taste is plain, white fluff dancing on his tongue, but it’s enough to appease his stomach. He chews with a need to fill his belly, even partaking in the beginning of a second bite, when a flash of movement from the woods has him frowning.

However, as he looks back into the misty confines of the Slumbering Weald, he finds that it must’ve only been his imagination. Nothing lingers in the darkness of those strange, mysterious woods. He looks to Hop, wondering if the other man saw the same trick of the light he had, but the nonchalant look on Hop’s face tells him otherwise.

“What?” the man asks, wiping at his mouth. “Do I have crumbs on myself or something?”

“No,” Victor shakes his head, finishing his slice of bread and urging Hop down from the stone wall as he slips off it. “Thought I saw something.”

“Oh.” Hop glances at the woods behind him before he joins Victor. “Yeah, those woods are famous for being creepy.”

“Creepy?”

The purple-haired man waves a hand. “Nothing much to worry about. From what Lee’s told me, the thing’s just full of ghosts and super strong Pokémon. Not much to fear when you’ve got me around.”

Victor snorts at that. “Alright Mister Knight On A Dubwool. I can always depend on you to protect me when I’m in danger then.”

“Count on it!” Hop grins from ear to ear, playfully slapping Victor’s shoulder as the two make their way back to Hop’s house.

They walk inside, the basket on Victor’s arm swinging side to side. There, they are greeted once again by Hop’s mom as well as Sonia. A Drampa and Manectric look up at the pair of men, both enjoying slabs of meat that stain their faces red, while the Yamper on Sonia’s lap barks in excitement.

“I see you’re here early,” Hop remarks to Sonia.

The woman runs her hand across Yamper’s fur, wincing as a shock of static from the pup strikes her.

“Gran sent me out early to come and fetch you.” She says. “She said there might be a delay with the trains today. So, I thought I’d come and pick you two up so we can head there early.”

“Alright,” Victor settles his basket of goods on the table, pushing away Sonia’s Yamper when it gets a little too eager to investigate. “Sounds like a good idea.”

The woman pulls her pup away, ignoring its yelps of protest as she hugs it to her chest. She stands up, nodding her head in the direction of Angelica as she heads towards the door. Hop gives a lingering glance at his mother, flashing a smile, and when the Titan woman tells him and Victor farewell the two are quick to follow after Sonia.

When they reach a fair distance away from the house, Sonia glances over in Victor’s direction. “Have you made any progress with the diary yet?” She asks him.

He blinks. Then shakes his head. “I haven’t.”

“I see…” The woman’s gaze softens with sympathy. She strokes Yamper’s head. “I can still remember the day you came to Postwick, you know.”

He glances at her. “Mm?”

“It’s not everyday a stranger wanders into Postwick the way you did,” she says. “I’m still curious about why you showed up when you did. You were just a child.” She pauses, a lilt of teasing in her voice as she adds: “And still are.”

“Oi,” Victor glares at her. “I’m eighteen years old now. I think you can consider me an adult now.”

“Only in name,” she responds, smiling softly. She reaches up to rustle his hat. “In spirit you’re still like a kid to me.”

“That’s rude.”

“Is not.”

Hop sighs at the both of them. “You’re both childish.”

They huff at him. “Am not,” they reply simultaneously.

Hop snickers. Victor jabs his side while Sonia leans over to rustle his hair. The man splutters, shoving her hand away, and then it’s Sonia’s turn to laugh.

The three of them make their way through to the tail end of Postwick. There, Route 1 stretches ahead of them, making up a field of rolling hills and unused pasture that contains herds of wild Wooloo, flocks of an assortment of birds, families of Skwovets and Greedents, as well as the occasional Thievul and Nickit that make their burrows in the winding slopes of the area set straight ahead.

While traversing the route, Hop lets loose his Flygon while Sonia lets loose her Sceptile. The dragon and dragon descendant stare out into the route beyond, gazes made wary as the they hover alongside their owners. Victor tosses out a Gogoat to accompany the other two Pokémon, the moss-covered goat striding alongside him with trepidation in its steps.

They make their way through the route without any notable incident aside from being challenged by a foolhardy Greedent. The fat squirrel is sent packing after Gogoat rams into it, stomping its hooves and snorting as the creature scurries back to its hole. They enjoy a quick meal from the berries left behind, snacking on Oran Berries as big as apples before continuing on their way.

After a bit of walking, the town of Wedgehurst comes into view. Unlike Postwick, which contains buildings small and scattered, Wedgehurst contains buildings looming and stacked side by side. Already, the citizens of the town are out and moving, only stopping to pass an exuberant “Hello!” in Sonia’s direction. The woman takes their greetings in stride, obviously recognizing their awareness of her presence, before the woman ushers them into the train station.

There, they are told to recall their Pokémon and the three of them obey. Victor calls back Gogoat just as Hop calls back Flygon and Sonia calls back her Sceptile and Yamper. The train station attendant nods, looking over Sonia’s tickets when she flashes them before her. He then lets her past and the three of them board the train.

“You know I used to ride this train before, yeah?” Sonia says as she leads them to a passenger coach devoid of people. “Back when I was younger, Leon and I used to take the trains all the time to reach the different cities during our Gym Challenge. This one was my favorite.”

“Aren’t all trains the same?” Hop asks her. “What’s the difference between this train and the one that goes from, say, Wyndon and Hammerlocke?”

“Mm, there’s not much difference, actually.” Sonia points to the wood-lined walls of the train. Her fingers linger over the shoddy carvings of flowers sketched into the panel. “However, there’s a little bit of history behind this drawing here. If you can believe it, Leon and I used to spend our time carving these flowers every time we sat in a different coach.”

“Sonia.” Hop says in a deadpan. “Sonia that’s literally vandalism.”

The woman gives a guilty flush of her cheeks. “Tell that to your brother,” she says with a near pout. “It was his idea.”

“So you’re saying my big brother was quite the rascal, huh?”

“Mm. He was quite a troublemaker. He often got the lot of us into trouble. We’ve probably been kicked out of so many bars because he couldn’t stop making mischief.”

“And now look at him now,” Hop whistles, “Champion of the entire region and apple of your eyes!”

She huffs at that, reaching over to pinch Hop’s cheek. The man yelps, yanking away, and the smarting glare he gives the woman earns him a laugh.

“Jokes like that will earn you the ire of every man and woman you meet,” she tells him with a scowl.

“But it’s true, isn’t it?” Hop rubs his cheek. “I’ve heard the gossip that you’ve had a crush on him since you were a child! It’s gotta be true!”

She crosses her arms, huffing. “The gossip you’ve heard was just that: gossip. I don’t have time to fancy men. Much less ones who are utterly terrible at walking in a straight line!”

Hop opens his mouth, presumably to make another snide comment, but Victor is quick to elbow the man before he can make a fool of himself. Hop shoots him a look, scowling as if to say: “ _What, I can’t have some fun now and then?”_.

A beeping sound alerts them to the voice of the conductor. Victor leans back in his seat as a deep tone assures them they are leaving the station soon to arrive at Motostoke. The three of them look amongst themselves for a moment, curious, before they divert their attention to the glass windows situated at either side of them: one to look outside and one to look at the interior hallway of the train.

There’s a little thrum of vibration that wracks Victor’s seat and then, slowly, he watches as the rolling hills outside his window give way to blurs of green.

The three of them sit in silence, no more conversation to be offered as they all keep to themselves. Victor busies himself by keeping his gaze outside he window, watching clouds and forests pass by as the train rolls its way to their destination. A distant chatter of the people outside their coach accompanies his ears, filtering in like background noise as he relaxes to the sound the train produces.

Hop rests his head on Victor’s shoulder, promising to take just a little nap, while Sonia herself looks ready to fall asleep to the constant click-clacking noise of the train.

He smiles at the both of them, content, and somehow feels so wrapped up in this moment that he never wants it to end.

* * *

The Wild Area is teeming with life.

Hooves beat on grass slickened by rainwater, followed by the patter of pawsteps and the squelching of boots pounding upon the ground. A group of people riding atop a variety of mounts (and some without) trek through the plains of the Rolling Fields, moving with purpose in their every step as they cross through sloping hills and cliff sides overlooking lakes of deep blue. At their feet are a pack of Boltund, the electric hounds sniffing the air as they slither through the grass, shocks of electricity sparking from their pelts.

Before them, scattering at the sight of such a procession, are the inhabitants of the Wild Area - the timid Espurr and the wary Copperajah and the territorial Lucario - each of whom watch the party from afar, uncertain yet not afraid to unleash havoc. In the skies, a flock of Mandibuzz haunt the air, the vultures doubtlessly waiting for their kills to feast upon. Their calls send the Boltund pack snarling, a fight already made predetermined by the way both sides state no intention to back down.

Among the hunting party crossing across the plains is a young man who leads the charge, dressed in the black cap, white breeches and the red tailcoat of the hunting staff. Tasked with leading the procession as its Master of the Hunt, he rides a white horse with a mane made from candy floss. The Galarian Rapidash trots through the big bluestem grasses of the Rolling Fields, her ears erect and her drooping blue eyes made wary by the way stray Linoone wander into their paths, barking for a fight, only to be chased away by the Boltund hounds.

Bede Alodia holds Rapidash’s reins tightly, letting the horse plod heedlessly forward as he looks around him. To his right, just under the side of a sloping cliff, is the East Lake Axewell. Its waters stretch out for as far as the eye can see, swarming with Pokemon and reaching out to the far shores of the oceans beyond. In the far distance, he can see the walls of Motostoke standing proud: giant walls of reinforced cement acting like the gates to some enshrined fortress.

“We’re almost there.”

Coming to meet Bede at his right flank is a man he knows quite well. A dark-skinned figure with eyes of sparkling green rides on a Mudsdale. He urges his dirt-colored horse to sidle alongside Bede’s as they cross through the grass, smiling brightly as the newcomer nods his head in greeting.

“That we are,” Bede responds, his voice clipped. 

“This will be a good test for you.” The man hums. “Your powers will be of great use in the hunt.”

“Of course. I aim to please.”

The man raises his eyebrows at that, pursing his lips. “Nervous?”

Bede tilts his head. “What makes you say that?”

“Your formal way of speaking. You don’t display that tic unless you’re nervous.” The man smiles at Bede’s deepening frown, reaching over to pat his shoulder. “Cheer up. This is only your first hunt as the master hunter. It’s natural to be nervous.”

He harrumphs with flustered agreement, tilting his chin up as the older man beside him offers up nothing more than polite laughter. He urges his Rapidash to trot just a step faster and the unicorn does so with a flash of light from its mane. The thing flashes him a displeased look - an emotion no doubt augmented by the dirt staining its pridefully white coat and the tufts that sparkles like clouds just above its hooves. He pats its neck, soothing the beast, and straightens himself out to stare straight ahead.

Taking a pause at the sandy shores of the East Lake Axewell, Bede lets his group take a moment of reprieve. There, the members of his party take to attending to their mounts and the Boltund hounds eagerly sniffing the air. Fulmen Tamers, friends to Pokemon of the electric variety, tend to the canines with careful murmurs, easing the impatient dogs into a state of calm as Bede’s group collects themselves.

Watching over the Fulmen Tamers, as well as the noble aristocrats who have come to participate as an audience, is a brown-haired woman with icy green eyes. She rides atop a Zebstrika, guiding the horse carefully as she circles the members of the hunt. The woman is known to Bede by many things. For this hunt specifically, however, she is merely the leader of the field staff, guardian to all participants and mediator between those who hunt and those who watch.

Bede stays atop his Rapidash as he peruses through the sandy beach of the lake shores. Rapidash snorts her annoyance, pawing at the wet grains of cream beneath her, and he only smiles at his horse’s dramatics, rolling his eyes as he says: “I promise I’ll groom you when we get back.”

His horse whinnies as if to protest his promise like it is something feeble. He clicks his tongue at her, running his fingers through its mane, and the horse grudgingly backs down, trekking onwards with her ears pulled backwards.

Despite his horse’s antics, Bede is more than aware of the sharp horn that glistens on Rapidash’s forehead or the way his horse reads the air with something keen. The man trusts his horse with his life. He has raised this Rapidash from infancy, has groomed her to be the capable mount he knows her to be. Yet, he cannot deny the way the horse’s sharp gaze always sends something in him a little off-kilter, how he feels like his control over her could slip in a moment’s glance if she so willed it.

Even as a Clairvoyant, master of psychic type Pokemon, even he cannot deny the way Rapidash sometimes look at him with eerie knowing in its eyes. The creature is intelligent, extremely so, and though Bede has been assured of her loyalty towards him more than once, he sometimes finds himself waiting for her to someday turn upon him.

Rapidash, unlike her Kantonian ancestors, was a creature whose heritage of woods shrouded in shadows allowed her the gift of preservation. Her kind’s adapatation to woods full of monsters and secrets made her vastly intelligent, a beast unable to be cowed by dastardly ghouls and cunning goblins. But, her heritage also made her dangerous, a force to be reckoned with if even the smallest slight is made.

Perhaps that is why Bede is grateful for his horse’s high tolerance of him. If he were anyone else, Rapidash would’ve likely taken his life by now, horn stabbed into his chest or limbs ripped apart by her psychic magic. But because Rapidash was his lifelong partner, a beast whose mere powers could uproot trees if she willed it, her agreement towards keeping his livelihood intact was much appeciated.

He urges his horse back to camp and, when Rapidash obeys, he finds that his hunting party has already caught up to him. They greet him with waiting eyes, staring at him as he clears his throat and dips his head.

“Today will be a fine day for hunting,” he says, starting off with a ramble and then strengthening his speech, “my sources have told me that there have been Thievul sightings all along the Rolling Fields. These Thievul have been making a mess of local farms and villages and have stolen many a Wooloo in their greed. It is my job as the master of this hunt to find those Thievul and eliminate them. And, as this hunt’s willing participants, I invite you all to watch my success as I prove to you I am worthy of this position.”

The Boltunds running between Rapidash’s feet yip with frenzied excitement, practically bouncing on the pads of their paws as electricity crackles from their fur. The Fulmen in charge of the creatures shout commands at their canines, ready to settle them into a state of calm, when Bede holds a hand up and they cease. 

“Their excitement will prove no harm to the hunt. You’ll see.”

The Fulmen Tamers in charge of the Boltunds raise their eyebrows but make no comments, instead straying to the back of the party. Bede nods his thanks at them, turning Rapidash to face the open field lying before him.

Like a mirage, spools of gold thread appear in his vision, attached to bubbles of stardust that showcase sights and sounds Bede has never quite witnessed before. In the reflections of such phantasmal bubbles, he sees possibilities - of things that have not come to pass but which very well could if Bede pursues them. 

Bede, like many of his kind, is blessed with powers that rival the likes of human understanding. A Clairvoyant by birth, he posses the ability of precognition, able to look into countless futures in the hope of a favorable outcome. However, unlike others who possess precognition as their power, his ability bears no prophecies nor does it allow him to see one’s fortunes or divine the cause of one’s death. Rather, it allows him to see possibilities of the future, to choose from the countless routes of action stretched before him in order to reach a goal of worth.

In this case, the goal of worth is an objective: a target to be reached and slain like a dragon in the tales of old. Bede peels through the various pieces of imagery that bubble around him, mentally shutting down the countless windows surrounding him by listing his requirements.

 _Can’t go into the lake, can’t get the hounds killed, can’t get my people killed, I just want a Pokémon, yes_ that _Pokémon, where is that Pokémon?_

Eventually, however, his mind settles on a vision bright and bubbling, stardust surrounding the painting of a event to be pursued. Bede urges Rapidash forward, inviting the men behind him to follow along, and the group obliges without protest.

He leads his men carefully, edging around a nest of Dottler pupa that flash their blue spots in warning. They settle on top of a fallen tree hollow and rotting, resting like living statues as they stare, observing.

Among them are crawling Blipbugs no bigger than Bede’s hand. The little larvae stare at his hunting party as they pass, large, glassy eyes unblinking as they chitter. The coarse hairs running along the bodies of the bugs prick up, moving freely in the air.

Nestled among the pupa and larvae are the adults: large, hovering ladybugs with red, purple-spotted shells and a stick-thin black body which dangles from the head. Glowing blue eyes settle on Bede as he passes, allowing him the immediate delight of remembering how Orbeetle are often said to devour the brains of Clairvoyants unfortunate enough to stumble upon them.

Fortunately, the tale of such horrors doesn’t hold true with the menacing bugs resting before him. Instead, the Orbeetle regard him with an eerie hum. There is cunning in those white-ringed eyes of blue, intelligence both profound and terrifying. Bede has no doubt that these ladybugs – all of which are the size of small boulders – are more than capable of doing him great damage.

And, if it were not for his future sight, perhaps he would have been nervous to come across them, the nausea of uncertainty barreling over him as it now does his hunting party.

Unease takes a hold of Bede’s group, sending most of the men in participation reaching for Pokeballs strapped to their waists. Undoubtedly, they can sense the tension rife in the air. A silent threat has been sent in their direction by the swarm of bugs before them, warning of potential provocation, but Bede shakes his head at those in his care as they lose their nerves.

“They will not attack us unless we attack them first,” he says, voice ripe with a confidence borne from knowing. “Carry along now.”

There is a faint grumble of protest, a hiss of anxiety among those participating in the hunt, but the woman in the white tailcoat shoots them all a cold stare and they end their mutterings. Bede nods his thanks to her, urging Rapidash forward as he leaves the unsettling nest of psychic bugs behind.

His horse carries on, unconcerned with the plights of humans and the fears they carry towards beasts nigh unpredictable. He almost envies that about her: she, unlike him, pays little heed to the fruitless worries of a future bought by obsession and instead languishes in the inevitability of ceaseless tensions. He wants to be like that, sometimes. Sometimes he just wants to let all his fears and worries, all his frustrations and angers and paranoias just wash away in exchange for simplicity – a life devoid of future-checking and quality assuring.

Rapidash glances back at him as if sensing his musings. Her ears perk up, showing her loss of a bad mood, and he pats her neck. Her mane flashes for a moment with a dazzling array of colors – yellow, green, pink, purple, blue, red, orange – and then she snorts, holding her head up high.

Bede smiles. It’s a good sign: it means he’s pleased her.

He moves along, guiding his crew with flawless effort around the dangers of the Wild Area. They avoid the nasty potentials of death and misery that would otherwise accompany a party devoid of Clairvoyant assistance, passing obstacles of fatality and avoiding monsters of easy provocation to reach their destination: a dense patch of trees that starts the boundary line between that of the Rolling Fields and that of the Dappled Grove.

“The Thievul’s den is in this forest,” Bede relays to the hunters crowding behind him. “I will guide the hounds to the den. The rest of you, follow at a distance and watch as you please.”

He pauses, waiting for an objection to make itself heard. When none comes forth, he saunters forth on his mount, enjoying the way the Boltund shepherded by Fulmen Tamers look to his command. He clicks his tongue at them, beckoning them to follow, and they bristle in excitement, already salivating at the prize they know is waiting.

The hounds take off before him, forming a front line of defense as they press their noses to the ground and search for their quarry. Bede does little to aid them, knowing the canines will find the scent that will lead them to their prey soon enough. He has a spectacle to run, after all. And he knows the merits of letting the Boltunds do as they please. After all, that will earn the admiration of his crew a lot more than his romping towards the precise location of a den will be.

Still, he plays his part, following after the hounds and watching them in turn, pretending to wait to see which hound will find a strong scent first. Of course, he’s long since predicted which Boltund will get a head start and which will follow in its footsteps. His precognition has already shown him the winning bet, allowing him to sit pretty as he performs his part.

Then, the hound of his knowing finds its first whiff, inhaling deeply, and with a shake of its bolt-shaped tail it races off. The other hounds take interest in its sudden excitement, surrounding the spot it had just sniffed before they, too, scurry off to follow the trail of something waiting.

_Palpitoad, Thievul, cub, meadow, running, trapping…_

Bede follows after them. Rapidash obliges his commands, trailing after the hounds with curiosity ripe in her blue eyes. He can sense her intrigue at the bloodshed soon to occur, the way she tenses with anticipation, waiting for the moment teeth will sink into flesh and blood will ripen the air with the taint of death. She is a bit frightening in that way – as all psychic types are, truly – and while Bede keeps her close ( _always keep your friends as close as your enemies_ , his benefactor would tell him) he makes sure to watch her, wary of the stirrings trembling in her very body.

The Boltunds lead him through a gap in the trees, leaping over rotting tree logs and navigating around rustling bushes to emerge in a clearing adorned in flowers. There, a sight made déjà vu to Bede greets him, allowing him to meet the present of a future already predicted.

Two Thievul – large red-pelted foxes streaked with charcoal – gather around the corpse of a dead Palpitoad. The creatures are feasting upon the flesh of the bulging blue toad, red smattering their lips as they come to attention, silver eyes flashing with alarm. The Nickit pup smushed between them pays little heed to its parent’s flare of tension. Instead, it chews leisurely on the arm of the Palpitoad corpse, ignorant to the danger lurking just behind it.

Appearing in a circle surrounding the Thievuls are the Boltund pack Bede has employed for the hunt. The yellow canines face their prey with tongues running loose from their mouths. They yip loudly, electricity bursting from their pelts, and the Thievul are quick to act in provocation.

The two foxes work in tandem, dancing alongside each other to protect that of which is most valuable to them: the life of themselves, as well as their pup. However, Bede has already worked through the outcomes. He’s seen the way they’ll move just as he’s already seen how he, himself, must act.

He clicks his tongue. Once. Twice.

The Boltund hounds perk up their ears, made aware of a signal only they understand, and they press inwards. The Thievuls snarl, using their tails to swipe away their incoming enemies, before they, too, adapt to the situation.

Picking up her cub in her teeth, the mother Thievul makes a run for it, leaping over the circling hounds to bound away. Her efforts separate the pack, sending half of the Boltund under Bede’s control racing after her. The father Thievul stops the rest from pursuing her, distracting them by biting and snapping restless legs.

Bede surveys the fight: as does his hunting crew. He himself stands at the edge of the clearing, watching for any signs of needed interference, while the members of his party observe from a distance, no doubt using binoculars to keep a view of the proceedings.

Rapidash carries him around the clearing, trotting around the ring of canines with only the fascination of a blood lusting bystander. He can feel the way the unicorn itches to join in, to rear on her hind legs and stomp down upon her opponents – be they made of the blood of electricity or the blood of darkness.

She is a quaint thing for that reason, a danger disguised in a dainty body. Bede is sure her lineage has been evolved for that purpose – to invite in helpless prey and lure them to their deaths like fairy-borne kelpies.

Still, Bede has little time to hesitate as he reigns her in. He runs his fingers along the unicorn’s neck, reminding her of the objective at hand, and she reluctantly bows her head, eyeing the fox before them with starved longing in her eyes. He focuses on putting a damper on her urges, coaxing ideas of grooming in her direction, and she relents, resuming her journey around the edge of the clearing. Bede sighs, glad to have her under his control as he reads through the futures settled before him to find a suitable outcome.

 _Father Thievul, caught by hounds, little damage, quick death…_ His mental requirements jog like a list, narrowing down the futures he seeks to pursue. Rapidash whinnies as if to ask him to hurry, but he ignores her complaints to narrow down his specifications even further. _Kill the father, find the mother, find the cub, have the Boltunds do their job, get praised, get praised, get-_

He shakes his head, clicking this tongue thrice. The Boltunds snarl, unleashing a simultaneous shock of electricity that barrels into the fox before them. The thing screams, brought to its knees, and Bede narrows his eyes as the way the Thievul still fights to stand, limbs trembling.

“Annoying,” he says. “End it now.”

The Boltunds are quick to follow Bede’s commands, jumping forward to do the deed. However, the Thievul is quicker, shaking off its paralysis just in time to dig into the ground underneath.

Scurrying away in confusion, the Boltund hounds whine, pawing at a hole already caved in. They try to tear their way into the dirt, hungry for their quarry, when Bede reassures them with a gentle click. He earns their immediate attention as he makes silent gestures to each hound as to where they should move. The hunting hounds obey eagerly, trusting in his insight.

“Set-up!” He calls to them, swiping a hand out.

The hounds nod, bristling yet again with electricity. However, instead of sending the electricity towards a specified target, they generate electricity all around them. A pool of yellow jolts spreads from their paws, creating a lake of sparks that sizzles and simmers in anticipation.

Bede waits, puzzling through all the future visions laid before him. Thievul, despite being known to bury themselves when threatened, cannot stand being underneath the dirt forever. They create holes in the earth when they are cornered, burying themselves into tunnels and blocking all exits. However this tactic, while useful for dissuading predators too dumb to think, can only last so long in the face of a patient opponent. Eventually, the temporary cavern dug into the earth will fill with carbon dioxide from the creature’s breathing, forcing it to return to the surface. Then and only then will he allows his Boltund pack to strike.

In other words: Bede is playing a waiting game. A long one at that, considering his hounds are already growing restless.

Then, from the visions sitting before him cloaked in golden grains, a movement stirs. Bede nods his head, urging the hounds to circle a certain spot. They do so on quiet paws, pressing inwards.

Something stirs from beneath the ground. The Boltund pack tenses, opening their mouths in anticipation. The earth before them trembles, dirt shivering, before a orange shape leaps into the air to leave a gaping hole behind.

The net of electricity hugs the surfacing figure, blanketing blood-painted fur in yellow jolts. The poor Thievul yells in agony, steam coiling off its body as it falls to the ground, twitching horribly as a brave Boltund takes a bite of its neck. The creature lashes out, the claws of its hind leg etching scratches into the hound, before it shudders and falls still to the ground, eyes rolled back in its head.

Bede approaches cautiously, Rapidash dispelling the net of electricity as he does so. The Boltund pack ignores him, however, so caught up in impatient bloodlust to the point they are now ripping into the corpse of the fox with snarls and sneers.

The man frowns, disappointed by their lack of restraint, and decides to set his sights on the one that got away. He pulls up the phantasmal pools of stardust that make up his precognition yet again, searching for the mother Thievul.

However, in doing so, he fails to notice the apparition slinking from the bushes just feet away from him. He turns, gaze caught by the flash of red in the corner of his eyes, but it’s too late. The mother Thievul from before is already bearing down upon him, leaping downwards with her teeth extended to tear out his throat.

The futures simmering before him shudder, crumbling into snowflakes of gold dust as he turns in his seat on Rapidash’s back. Time moves slowly, allowing for Bede to savor the last milliseconds left of his life as he watches, freezing in place at the sight of death knocking at his door at long last.

Something brown hurtles forward, knocking the fox into a gathering of snarling canines. She screeches in indignation, hissing, but her intrusion has caused the Boltund hounds tearing at her mate to turn upon her. Bede watches as the group chases her off, intent on bringing her back, and he can hardly keep his fingers from shaking as he clasps Rapidash’s reins in his hands.

“Be careful!” the man from before says, coming to his side. His Mudsdale snorts in agreement, jabbing its face against Rapidash’s side. The younger horse flicks her ears back, snorting, but a pat from Bede forces her to lower her head. “I know you are using your powers to help the hunt, but you have to keep an eye on your surroundings too!”

The man’s firm words send Bede’s heart dropping. Disappointment pricks at him like a poisonous sting, allowing bitterness to disturb his body with nausea. He swallows down his pride with a gulp as he lowers his head, hanging it like a repentant child as he says: “I know, sir. Sorry for the disturbance, sir.”

Something lands on his shoulder. Bede jolts in surprise, looking to see a dark brown hand squeezing his shoulder. His gaze flicks to the man’s, confusion lingering, but is left relaxing at the smile beamed his way.

“You just made a mistake.” His companion says. “Luckily, mistakes can be learnt from. You’ll learn from this, won’t you, Bede?”

“Yes, sir.” He says automatically, perking up under the words. “I’ll learn from this.”

“Good.” The man nods his head towards the forest clearing. “Then let’s clean up here. It looks like the hunt is finished.”

Bede cocks his head, wondering at that, when he notices a small group of hounds carrying around the mother Thievul’s body like a trophy. He clicks to them, urging them forward, and they obey with eagerness. The kill is brought to the attention of their Fulmen Tamers, all of whom are quick to praise the hounds and urge them away from the bloodthirsty pack still snapping and snarling over the male Thievul’s corpse.

Bede looks between the two kills, glancing with pity at the male fox while feeling a shiver run through him at the sight of the female, still yet lifelike. He remembers the flash of teeth, the threat of death so close to his body, and tries to focus on something else – anything else, really.

Then he remembers a crucial detail he’s forgotten in the havoc of the hunt. The pair of Thievuls were not the only foxes he has encountered within the Dapple Grove. There was a kit, too, a baby Nickit left abandoned by its now dead parents.

His stomach churns as he calls upon his powers to view pathways into the future. His TV screen of ceaseless windows bursts to life before him, crafting routes of possibility that are just as endless as they are meaningless. He rubs at his chin, musing, and narrows down the possibilities to his quarry of interest.

 _Location…I need the location of that Nickit,_ he thinks to himself, wondering where the mother fox could have put her child. However, the bubbles of possibilities that hover before him narrow down at an abysmal rate. With a lack of other specifications, the futures before him bubble and burst like slow boiling water. The possibilities shrink down but only do so at a speed Bede doesn’t have time for.

The man pats Rapidash’s side, asking for her to lend her help, and the unicorn’s horn glows as she lends him some of her psychic energy. Suddenly, the futures shown before him shimmer and shatter, growing smaller and smaller until he finds a handful of futures that show a variety of things: all of which Bede ignores as he urges Rapidash forward, following the future shown to him as he hears a shout of confusion echoing behind him.

Bede doesn’t think, however, merely acts. His unicorn follows the path he has been shown, allowing herself to be guided by the small pulls he gives on the black, diamond-encrusted rein he has on her. She gallops along, following a path carved only from his foresight as they manifest next to a tree ripe with Oran Berries.

Once there, Bede slides off his mount and approaches the base of the tree, finding a pile of rocks hastily put into place. He removes the rocks one by one, uncovering a hole wide enough for a Thievul to slip through.

Unclipping a Pokeball from the black belt around his waist, Bede releases a female Meowstic. The white cat appears with eyes drooping, yawning spectacularly as she glances up at her master and licks a paw.

He points to the den at his feet. “There’s a Nickit in there,” he tells her, “I want you to fetch it for me.”

The psychic pokemon glances up at him with a swish of her twin tails. She crosses her arms, looking defiant as she shakes her head. He sighs, running a hand through his white locks as he says: “If you do this for me, I’ll brush your fur.”

Unlike his Rapidash, who is so easily soothed by a promise of grooming, Meowstic looks at him like she wants more. He glowers, giving her a firm stare, but her reluctance is costing him time. So, giving in to the spoiled nature of his Pokémon he scowls.

“Alright,” he tells her, “I’ll even make you curry too.”

Meowstic nods at that, taking his words as a vow unable to be broken as she gets to work. The white cat burrows into the den, scrambling about until she disappears inside the darkness of it. He watches the hole, waiting, and it doesn’t take long for her to resurface.

The psychic cat walks over to Bede, showing the prize in her mouth with a patient gleam in her golden eyes as it squirms before her.

Taking a moment to observe the Nickit kit, Bede finds that the thing is smaller than he remembers it to be. The creature looks barely weaned from its mother’s teats, small in size and wailing out of its goddamn mind. Some part of Bede feels irritated by the helplessness it shows, anger biting at him. He bends down to pick up the kit by the scruff, dangling it in the air, and the poor thing whines in his grip, swinging back and forth to lash out at him as if to run away.

“I won’t kill you,” he says quietly, murmuring to it like the child it is, “I don’t hurt orphans.”

The beast looks at him as if to ask: _but you make them?_

Bede winces, suddenly well aware of the hypocrisy of his statement. Still, he tucks the creature to his chest, ignoring the terrified look on its face as it bites and snaps at his clothing. The small fox digs its teeth into the velvet lining of his red coat, gnawing and nipping at it as if to try and get to the flesh of his skin.

Meowstic meows its concern, blinking up at Bede with questions in its eyes, but he shakes his head and recalls the creature back. His Galarian Rapidash approaches with a snort, eyeing the Nickit in its owner’s arms with distaste. However, the kit takes an immediate liking to the horse, making a happy barking noise as it reaches for the creature. Bede holds the kit close, letting its paws play with the colored hair of the horse.

Rapidash snorts at him, folding her ears back in warning, but he exerts his influence over her and the horse grudgingly backs down to let the baby play with her hair.

The noise of hooves sound from behind him and Bede glances back to see the dark-skinned man approach on his Mudsdale. The man is smiling, looking rather amused at the kit in Bede’s hands as the woman on the Zebstrika follows from behind.

“Fancy yourself a new friend there, Bede?” The man asks.

“Yes, Chairman Rose.”

“Are you planning on taking care of it?” the woman inquires, trotting closer to them on her horse. She looks in disdain at the small creature, circling around Bede’s Galarian Rapidash. “It’s small and absolutely worthless.”

“It will grow to be invaluable when it gets older, Madam Oleana.” 

“Ugh.” The woman snorts. “You and your titles.” 

“Do you have a problem with it-” he smirks, “Madam Oleana?”

She rolls her eyes. “As I’ve said before, Oleana is just fine you brat.”

“Yes, Madam Oleana.”

He glowers at her and the woman scowls. She turns to Rose, pursing her lips as she guides her mount close to the dark-skinned man. “Remember,” she says, “you are scheduled to attend the celebratory festival in Motostoke this afternoon.”

Rose nods his head, trotting away while the woman follows. Bede climbs up onto his Rapidash, settling into its saddle as he follows after them. The Nickit kit snaps at him as he does so, growling, but it is easily subdued by its fascination with Galarian Rapidash’s hair. His horse nickers its complaint. Bede ignores it to listen to the conversation at hand.

“Very well,” Rose says, “I guess I need to get ready then. Bede, do you want to come with me?”

“Want me to check for assassins?” The boy asks, leading his Rapidash between them. “Or do you want me to practice predicting how many people will be asking for my hand in marriage?”

Oleana shakes her head at him. “Cheeky, are you?”

Rose laughs at that. “As much as he ever is,” Rose reaches over to pat Bede’s head, acting as if he was to rustle the boy’s hair under his cap. “But, as much as I appreciate the thought, I want you there to keep watch. This will be good for you.”

“You’ll get to see the Champion in action,” Oleana says, almost grimacing. “I’m sure it’ll be an utter shitstorm of fun.”

“That it will.” Rose chuckles before beckoning them forward. “Come on, let’s join the field staff.”

“You mean the riders Oleana left behind?” Bede pipes. “Against her duties?”

“The hunt is done and over with, brat.” Oleana frowns at him. “The riders are free to do as they like now.”

“And yet you’re letting them be unprotected by their field master?”

“They have Pokemon. They can handle themselves.”

“I guess. I just thought the big bad Oleana would want to protect the people in her care.”

Oleana flicks him on his forehead and he yelps, clutching at the spot with puffed out cheeks. Rose shakes his head at the both of them, keeping silent as he leads them forward. Bede and Oleana follow in his footsteps, guiding their mounts until they meet up with the rest of the field staff. The herd of people meet with the three in eagerness, surrounding Rose and Bede and Oleana and lavishing ceaseless praise upon the three. 

“Well done,” a man dressed in the black and white attire of the field staff says, clapping Bede on the shoulder. “You did a good show.”

“Thank you,” he says with practiced politeness.

“Perhaps you’d like to take my daughter’s hand in marriage?” The man continues. His grip on Bede’s shoulder tightens just a bit. “She’s a pretty little thing about your age. And, I just know she’d be more than willing to bed a young strap such as yourself if you’d let her.”

Bede keeps the distaste from showing on his face as he forces a smile. “Take it up with Chairman Rose,” he says. “I have no control over who takes my hand in marriage. However, he definitely does.”

The man looks somewhat annoyed by Bede’s comment, biting at his lip, but then he gives a brilliant smile and nods, heading over to where Rose is talking with a flock of women. The blond-haired man restrains a grin as he watches the man chat up Rose, no doubt intending to push his wishes onto Bede’s adopted father. However, Bede watches as Rose waves the man off, shaking his head, and the boy hums to himself in pleasure as Oleana joins him.

“Waving off an offer just like that?” She asks him. “For all you know that man’s daughter could’ve been the prettiest girl on earth.”

“And for all _I_ know, that man would say anything to use me as a stepping stone for his family’s heritage. Besides,” Bede tilts his head up, chin in the air as he prances around on Rapidash, “I have no interest in tying myself to a woman I don’t give a damn about.”

“So there’s still hope for you to bed someone yet?”

“Ew. No.” Bede scowls at her. “How about bedding no one ever?”

She gives a harsh laugh. “I suppose that’s fair enough. But just you wait. If you can’t find a partner, then we might just have to find one for you.”

Bede flashes her a scandalized look. “You wouldn’t force a marriage on me.”

“No. But we’ll force you to attend banquets and balls and all the cutesy little things you hate in-between.”

He rolls his eyes. “That’s the best kind of torture and you know it. I absolutely _excel_ at social events, after all.”

“That you do.” Oleana beckons him along with her, urging Zebstrika through the Dappled Grove. Bede urges Rapidash after her, following at her flank. “Regardless, the Motostoke celebration will be a different type of social event for you to attend.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“You’ll get to see the Champion, for one.” Oleana grimaces. Then pauses. “He and Rose go far back.”

Bede raises an eyebrow at _that_. He’s never heard of Rose holding an intimate relationship with the Champion before. Business relationships, yes, but never anything as suggestive as the amiability of what Oleana was pitching. “They do?”

“Oh yes. There’s quite a lot of history between them.” A faint chill emanates from Oleana, reaching his skin through his clothes. He peers at her, watching the way her face is scrubbed of emotion as she adds: “He’s quite a deceiving man. Full of lies and tricks. As all Titans are.”

Bede thinks back to the times he’s met the Champion. Though they’ve never talked face-to-face, they’ve definitely been introduced together and in the same visceral space before. Bede could recognize the man anywhere – it was hard not to, especially when Titans like him were a rarity. However, never once in his time seeing the man had he been struck with the idea that Champion Leon was a liar.

Still, he takes his adoptive mother’s words to heart, pondering over them. “I’m guessing he’s not someone you like.” He states.

The woman turns to him with a faint air of surprise around him. “I wonder…” She says, before shaking her head and nodding at him. “He’s someone to keep an eye on, at the very least.” She pauses, lowering her voice into a whisper as she says: “Never let down your guard around him.”

He turns to her, eyes wide, but Oleana has already driven her Zebstrika ahead of him. The man watches her go with pursing lips, pursuing her from behind as Rapidash follows. He runs his thumb over the diamonds sparkling from his mount’s reins, pondering.

Rose calls him to his side, and the man obeys. The dark-skinned man is quick to put him in charge of the procession’s return, falling back to talk to Oleana. Bede watches the two for a moment, noting the way Rose’s face darkens before he takes to the task at hand.

 _A liar Champion…_ He hums to himself. _I look forward to meeting him._

* * *

When the ship she is travelling upon finally moors itself the edge of Hulbury’s docks, Gloria is already halfway passed out from seasickness.

Her stomach groans, its contents rolling, and Gloria is already regretting eating a breakfast burrito as her choice for her morning meal.

She leans over the silver rail of the ship, puking without mercy over the side of it. Vile vomit coats her tongue like the aftertaste of a cigarette, bitter and sour. It leaves her wanting to retch once more, her skin crawling with nausea as she stumbles her way through the deck of the ship.

Of course, she’d run out of pills for her seasickness just that morning. Of course she’d somehow forgotten to take a few extras with her in case she lost some. And, of course, she had lost some, as she always did, left cursing her own lack of foresight as she leans against the railing and prepares to puke once more.

Beside her, not looking the least bit sympathetic to the plight of its owner, is Delphox. The bipedal fox merely stares at Gloria, its arms clasped in front of it as its heads tilts back and forth like the arm of a ticking clock. A faint current of psychic energy spreads from the fur of the towering creature, pricking Gloria’s skin like jolts of static as the woman does her best to recover.

If Gloria were not a Clairvoyant – friend to Psychic types and possessor of an ability most unusual – perhaps she would feel her skin crawling at the fox’s stare.

Delphox, unlike the rest of his line, is a creature almost malicious in nature. Powerful in appearance and able to set alight anything it desires, the brown-haired woman is more than aware of the strength it possesses. With a single flick of the branch he carries in his paws, the whole ship set before her could fall ablaze.

But Delphox, ever loyal to Gloria since she’d raised him as a Fenniken pup, was almost incapable of turning against his master. He was a patient thing, calm in his appearance, but he was quick to hide the bloodlust lingering underneath.

Gloria wipes her tongue against the sleeve of her gray wool sweater, spitting in disgust. Delphox appraises her as she does so, staring, but does little else as he watches his owner rake her nails over her tongue, desperate to get rid of the wool threads lingering on her tastebuds.

Before her, looking over in Gloria’s direction with only mild disgust, are the other passengers of the ship. Men and woman dressed fancily and not tote luggage behind them as they walk to the boarding plank placed at the lower third deck of the ship. Families of three or more, couples of two, and tourists of one travel with purpose, chatting amiably among themselves as Gloria pushes herself off the silver railing.

“Let’s get off this damn ship,” she says to her Pokémon.

Delphox nods, trailing obediently after her as she follows the crowd down the plank. She descends down to the docks below, feet landing lightly on the concrete surface as the crowd of ship passengers rushes around her.

She takes a moment to get her bearings, fighting off her last traces of seasickness as she wobbles on land. Delphox steadies her, reaching one paw to keep her upright, and she thanks it.

Getting to her feet, she takes in the sight of the city of Hulbury. Buildings short and square in shape stretch out for all the eye can see, painted in varying shades of blue, white and purple as they trek from the sandy shores of Hulbury all the way up to the top of steep, rocky cliffs.

Brick roads lacerate the ground before her as she approaches the waiting city. They writhe and wind, carrying an air of ancientness as they climb the slope that leads to the upper part of Hulbury and then part from it.

Already, the hum of the city is made quite apparent, boats mooring on the docks up ahead to unload cargo just as a lighthouse waves its greetings.

  
A fine mist secures the lower parts of Hulbury in a white shroud, offering Gloria a slight chill as she traverses with Delphox though the roads of the city. Peddlers offering their wares beckon for her attention, pitching their goods with benefits too good to be true. Delphox turns them all away for her, snarling at anyone who dares to waste her time with such frivolous nonsense.

“I’ve come here for one purpose and one purpose only,” she tells one of the peddlers who braves Delphox’s wrath to offer her a lucky Raboot’s foot. “And that purpose doesn’t include buying crappy tourist shit.”

The man in question backs off after that, huffing at her foul attitude, but Gloria can honestly care less. She’s not here to see the sights and sounds of Galar. Nor is she here to entertain the likes of pushy merchants and desperate peddlers. After all, if she wanted to be like any other gullible tourist and buy shitty merch, she would’ve brought a suitcase.

However, as she takes to hiking up the winding road that leads up the sloping cliffs of Hulbury, she finds herself tensing at the eyes glancing in her direction. Her Delphox, meanwhile, has a pleasant hum about him, one that almost soothes her despite the pounding of her heart. She keeps a hand on the Pokeballs attached to her waist, bracing herself for a fight if anyone dares to cross her.

That said, none of the people that she passes give her a second glance. And, honestly, brown hair, brown eyes, gray wool sweater, pink dress and green cap leave little to stare at. It’s meant to be that way. She hasn’t spent hours upon hours researching the fashion trends in Galar for nothing, after all.

She continues walking, passing the people travelling through the streets. As she does, snippets of conversations flow in her direction, each more taunting than the last.

“They say Champion Leon will be there himself personally to make the announcement…” A woman whispers to one of the several hundred merchants lining Hulbury’s walkways. “If only I didn’t have work today, I’d go see him myself.”

Nearby, a young boy asks his companion: “Do you think the Champion is as cool as everyone says he is?”

His friend answers with a knowing scoff. “Of course he is! After all, Titans are the coolest! They can go _rawr_ and command dragons with just a flick of their hands! There’s no way our Champion _isn’t_ cool!”

Gloria narrows her eyes at the spectacle being made, picking up her pace in her irritation. Delphox lowers its head to meet her gaze, red eyes sparking with a kind of bloodlust. She shares in its emotions, feeling impatience snatch a hold of her, but she forces herself to calm, steadying her beating heart with deep breaths.

The woman winds her way to the local Corviknight Taxi station, finding it nestled in between a blue-roofed seafood restaurant and a small little shop selling exotic flowers. The station stands tall over its neighbors, painted a dark gray color and saddled with a tall glass atrium in place of a roof. Even from down on the ground, Gloria can catch a glimpse of the Corviknights located inside, the steel-feathered black birds fluttering inside as they wait their turn.

In front of the station, however, stands a line of people that winds all the way down the road. Gloria can see hundreds upon hundreds of people waiting their turn for a ride, talking amongst themselves as they stare longingly at the station’s entrance.

Gloria frowns, looking at her companion. Delphox tilts its head, ears perking.

“I don’t suppose you can teleport me straight to Motostoke, can you?”

He shoots her a look that suggests, indeed, he cannot. She rubs the back of her head, sighing. “Now how are we supposed to get there?”

Footsteps sound behind her. Gloria ignores them to run her fingers through Delphox’s fur, considering her options. She doesn’t have a flying-type Pokémon of her own to travel through the skies on. Nor does she have time to catch one and bend it to her will to the point it is willing to shuttle her all the way to Motostoke.

The woman taps her foot, pondering. “Should we try going there on foot?” She asks her Pokémon.

“Excuse me,” a voice says, “did you say you wanted to go to Motostoke?”

Gloria pauses at the sound of the voice, spinning on her heels to attend to the question at hand.

Her gaze meets the figure of a pretty woman with long black hair striped with blue. Blue eyes meet the brown of Gloria’s as the newcomer presses her hands in front of her, wearing a blue, black and white uniform lined with orange that covers her upper torso, skips her belly, and then settles down to the middle of her thighs.

Gloria can recognize her in an instant. The woman before her is Lady Nessa of Hulbury, the city’s current gym leader and the favorite to win in Hulbury’s next Gym Leader Tournament. The woman is well renowned for being as beautiful as the waters she swims in. However, she is said to be as territorial as a prideful Gyarados, protective of her city and quick to oust any who make an ounce of trouble within her settlement’s borders.

“Lady Nessa.” Gloria performs the best imitation of a curtsy she can give to the woman, picking up the ends of her pink dress as high as she will tolerate them to perform the action. “It is an honor to be spoken to.”

The woman raises her eyebrows. “My,” she says, bowing to Gloria in light of a lack of a skirt to curtsy with, “it’s not every day I see a foreigner paying heed to our customs.”

Gloria tenses. “You can tell I’m a foreigner?”

She nods. “I saw you get off the boat.” She looks in the direction of Gloria’s companion. “It’s not every day someone brings a fire type my city.”

Gloria looks to her companion. Delphox looks back, looking just as disturbed as the woman feels. “If he offends you, my lady, I will be happy to put him back in his Pokeball.”

To her surprise, Nessa laughs. “No, no, he’s fine as he is. So long as he doesn’t go making a mess of my town, I don’t mind his presence in the slightest.” The woman smiles a bright smile. “Rather, my only concern is with you.”

“Me?”

“You were just saying you wanted to go to Motostoke, correct?” Nessa looks at her and then at the line peering curiously in their direction. “If you wish, I could offer you a ride there myself.”

Gloria eyes her. “That’s quite a generous offer. But - and forgive my bluntness for asking this, Milady - why would you waste your time with escorting me to Motostoke? Surely I’m not worth your time?”

“Modest, are you?” The dark-skinned woman laughs. “I like that. I like that a lot. And don’t worry about feeling unworthy. You just remind me of a friend I have. She gives off the same aura you do.”

“Aura?”

“You seem like you’re determined yet purposeless. Strong yet weak at heart. Full of misfortune yet willing to survive like a bug despite it.”

Gloria squints. She can’t tell if Nessa is insulting her or not. “…Thanks?”

Nessa waves a hand. “Point is,” she says, “if you’re going to Motostoke, I’d be more than happy to accommodate you.” She smiles a smile that is distant yet teasing. “After all, I can’t just ignore someone who reminds me so greatly of my best friend. What do you say? Want to come with me to Motostoke and talk some more?”

She ponders it. On one hand, Nessa’s offer is beyond tempting. In order to reach Motostoke at a reasonable time, flying on a gym leader’s personal taxi would perhaps be the best route possible. On the other hand, there’s something about Nessa that screams _insincere_. The way she talks, the way she moves, the way she smiles and dismisses Gloria’s attempts at imitating Galarian culture without batting an eye…something strikes her as a bit amiss.

This woman is whimsical in her offer, that much is true, but there’s an edge of danger that slices a shudder down Gloria’s spine. She stiffens, searching Nessa’s face for any hint of her true objective. However, when Nessa tilts her head in question, looking rather confused at Gloria’s lack of response, the woman finds she can’t afford to waste any more time.

She curtsies.

“It would be my honor to travel with you.”

Nessa sticks out a hand. “Glad to hear it,” she says.

Gloria takes it, about to offer a response, when something sharp strikes into her. A blast of pain overtakes her, burning and simmering, and it isn’t long before the world before her is swallowed by something strange.

A pool of pink fog creeps from her feet, sweeping outwards like a wave of Psychic Terrain. The road beneath her feet, Hulbury, and even Nessa herself gets swallowed by the swirling mist of magenta, a strange hum of power in the air as the changed terrain gives way to a murky image.

Tall, towering trees creep into view around Gloria, encasing her in the shadows of a forest somehow familiar. Darkness festers in the world around her, creepy and full of silence.

A child too young to be out in woods such as these all alone stumbles and whimpers, her dark skin bruised and bloodied. Black hair threaded into twin braids dangles behind her, eyes tinged with red as she rubs at her eyes and cries a peculiar name.

“Sonia!” The girl screams. “Sonia? Where are you? Please don’t leave me here alone! _Sonia!_ ”

The image of the girl shatters, crumbling like the broken fragments of a mirror down around Gloria. The woman inhales sharply as it does, the pink pool of mist she has accidentally summoned appearing for only a few seconds before it dissipates into thin air.

Nessa stands back before her, head tilting to the side, and Gloria can barely hide the sudden exhaustion that overtakes her as she curses the untimeliness of her powers.

 _What a useless ability,_ Gloria wants to snarl.

Like Nessa, a woman borne from the waters of the world, Gloria was a Tamer borne from the elements of nature. Mores specifically, she was a Clairvoyant – a Tamer borne from psychic waves and psychic powers. Even more, like those of her kind, she wields a psychic power: the power to see the past of any object (or person) she touches.

However, the psychometric capabilities she holds are very fickle. They appear on their own terms, unable to be controlled by the likes of their master. Gloria has long since tried to reign them in, working on using them only when needed, but she has always failed in doing so.

_The problem of a Clairvoyant raised by skuffs…_

“I just realized I haven’t got your name,” Nessa says suddenly, speaking as if to fill the silence Gloria has left behind.

“It’s Gloria, Milady,” she says, performing another curtsy.

“You can stop with the traditional courtesy,” Nessa shakes her head. “I don’t care much for it if I’m honest. Too old-fashioned, if you ask me. But-“ she turns to look at Gloria, “I appreciate the effort. Now come.”

The woman turns on her heels, escorting Gloria into the station without a second glance at the long line standing outside. Longing glances are sent in Gloria’s direction. As well as gazes of ire. She tries to think little of them as Nessa leads her inside the Corviknight Taxi station, leading her to the interior of a lobby full of people as she proceeds to walk towards the glass doors of the station’s atrium.

“Ah, Madam Nessa,” a man – an employee of the station, judging by the Corviknight pin tacked onto his uniform - says. “We’ve had your taxi prepared for you already. I trust ya are still goin’ to attend Motostoke’s opening ceremony correct?”

“It is the job of all gym leaders to attend announcements like these,” the dark-skinned woman hums in agreement. “Even Kent knows that.”

There’s a dark look that crosses the employee’s face. “And yet he’s still slinking around in the local taverns shanking woman left and right.”

“That’s his problem, not mine. He knows the duties he’s inherited.” Nessa pauses to look at Gloria. “Ah, I got ahead of myself. I’m going to borrow my personal taxi for a bit. This woman here is a guest.”

“Nice to meet ya uhhh…?”

“Gloria.” She curtsies despite the look exasperated look Nessa shoots her. “It is an honor to be a guest of your leader.”

“Well, I’ll be. You’re pretty polite for a foreigner.” He nods his head in the direction of Delphox at Gloria’s unspoken question. “It ain’t every day a lass like you comes ‘round these parts with a Kalosian Pokémon. Delphox ain’t known to thrive here, after all. That’s what makes ya an obvious foreigner. Not many people round these parts would dare to raise one of ‘em Fennekin in a cold place like this.”

“That’s enough,” Nessa says and the man dips his head. “I would rather not make Gloria here wait any longer if I must.”

“Right, right. Go on ahead then, Madam Nessa, the cabbie is ready for you whenever you like.”

Nessa nods, beckoning Gloria to follow her. She does, Delphox gliding alongside her, and the three enter into the atrium. There, a lush paradise full of trees and lined with a corridor of silver pods awaits their gazes. The pods – all passenger cars reminiscent of ferris wheel cabins – sit with a giant, scratch-nicked metal bar attached to the top.

Overhead, giant black birds with bodies seemingly made from steel armor look down on the people beneath. Their red eyes betray nothing as they stare, raucous caws taking the air as they hop and flutter in the trees surrounding the atrium. Sitting among them are a variety of men and woman, each of whom seem to be sitting freely among the birds without ruffling their feathers.

_Caelifers, no doubt._

Already, passengers have begun to fill up the pods, each taking turns in ones labeled with different names – _Wyndon, Wedgehurst, Hammerlocke, etc._ – as they chat amongst themselves.

Then, when the pods are crammed full of people, a Corviknight with a trainer atop will alight down on the handle on the roof. The black bird will grip its claws around the metal bar, spread its wings, and ascend upwards with its cargo to take to the skies.

Gloria watches the whole process with a mild sense of awe, watching as, one-by-one, the carriages lift off to fly through glass tubes and out holes poked in the atrium’s spherical roof.

“Pretty impressive, isn’t it?” Nessa says with a polite laugh. “From what I hear, other regions don’t have Corviknight Taxis like we do.”

“Kalos certainly doesn’t,” she nods in response, lost in the glamour of the attraction around her. “We mostly rely on our own Pokémon to fly.”

“That’s what I hear.” Nessa guides her to the back of the atrium where a golden carriage sits waiting in a glass tube. There, a woman with long blonde hair greets the two of them, a gray Corviknight by her side. “Ah, that was quick.”

“Of course,” the Caelifera says, producing two pairs of goggles for them to wear. “We always aim to please our clients. Especially as one as esteemed as yourself, Madam Nessa.”

“Such a tease,” Nessa huffs. When Gloria gives the woman a sideways glance, slipping on her goggles, Nessa only smiles. “Flattery is unnecessary, you know. I’m merely another customer.”

“Granted, one with special treatment.” The Caelifera guides them both into the carriage. Nessa enters it first, then Gloria, and then Delphox follows with a twitch of its snout, looking rather displeased about the situation. “I’m guessing you’re heading to Motostoke with this young miss here, right?”

“You got it.”

“Then I’ll fly to Motostoke.”

The Caelifera woman climbs atop the gray Corviknight, stroking the black feathers just under its chin as she does so. The Pokémon hops into the air, settling on the bar above, before it pumps its wings up and down and a strong blast of air rockets them upwards.

They take to the air, the Corviknight carrying them effortlessly into the sky. Down below, the atrium grows out of view, becoming smaller and smaller as the flying taxi submerges itself into the midst of clouds.

Delphox audibly growls, red eyes staring all around him, and not even Gloria’s hand threading through his fur can deter him from looking close to snapping something in half.

“Tell me,” Nessa says, “why are you here in Galar?”

Gloria eyes her. “To attend the Champion’s celebration, of course. It isn’t every year the Champion of Galar makes a public appearance like this.”

The woman purses her lips. “So you came to see the Champion in person?”

“Of course.”

“Are you a fan of his?”

Gloria gives a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “You can say that.”

“Hm.” The dark-skinned woman makes a noncommittal noise. Nessa’s blue eyes seem to shine in the light of the sun as she gives Gloria a look that’s almost pitying in nature. “But there’s something more, right?”

“What do you mean?”

Delphox peels back its lips, snarling at the woman, and Gloria barely can react in time to curb the bloodlust that wafts off the fox like the stench of sludge. She puts a hand on his side, fingers digging into skin. Sharp energy crackles in the air, purple sparks dancing all around Nessa. Gloria can hardly stop her Pokémon from lunging at the woman, only barely managing to keep him restrained by whispering “Stop” in his direction.

The psychic fox bristles, his gaze meeting hers as if to say _You feel the same, do you not?_ but then relents with his ears pinned to his skull.

“I meant no harm by my words,” Nessa says, almost _laughing_ at Delphox’s attempt to kill her. “Please don’t take offense.”

“We don’t,” Gloria says with a sharp glance in her Pokémon’s direction. The creature hisses at her, a foul irritation boiling off his fur like steam, and she pinches her fingernails into his skin to reprimand him from doing anything else unnecessary. “My partner has a bad tendency to overreact to those who don’t speak their true intentions.”

Nessa hums. “Oh but of course. I understand that quite well.” The woman tilts her head to the side, almost ethereal in the cloak of sunlight that slips over her bare shoulders. “But someone who doesn’t speak their intentions surely has a story to tell, do they not?”

Gloria doesn’t answer that. Can’t. So she sits back, petting Delphox’s fur to soothe him down. She looks out of the cabbie, pointedly avoiding Nessa’s gaze as Corviknight carries them through the skies and towards an approaching city. The bird moves fast despite the cargo it is carrying, wings beating furiously as it swoops through the sky.

A flock of Pelipper come to greet them, hovering to follow along the flanks of the carriage, and Nessa beams at the sight of the Pokémon. She even manages to coax one to come sit in her lap, the white and blue bird nestling in-between her legs until the call of its flock hurries it away.

When Nessa catches Gloria’s gaze, she smiles yet again. “They must be able to tell I’m a Syreni,” she says, as if offering an explanation that Gloria hasn’t asked for. “I’m guessing you’re a Tamer too?”

The woman eyes her. “How would you know?”

“I said it before, didn’t I? Very few can manage to get a Delphox under their control.” Nessa stares at the fire-type Pokémon across from her. “Of course, I find it hard to believe you’re an Ignifer.”

“Clairvoyant.” Gloria says, automatically, and then bites her bottom lip at the way she has so readily released information. She sighs. “I’m a Clairvoyant.”

“Oh, are you? How fascinating.” There’s a pause. “You know, they say Sylvans and Clairvoyants are distantly related to each other.”

She squints. “I’m not understanding you.”

She waves a hand. “I didn’t expect you to. It’s merely just an observation of mine. Please pay it no heed.”

And with that, they descend into uncomfortable silence. Gloria wonders at Nessa’s words – what do Sylvans have to do with her being a Clairvoyant, after all? – but Gloria merely waits until Corviknight appears within the vicinity of Motosoke, a city covered in plumes of steam, to speak again.

“What do you plan to do in Motostoke when you arrive?” She asks Nessa.

“Have a chat with the resident gym leader,” she says. “Meet a few people here and there….As well as doing my duty in protecting the Champion.”

“Oh, is that so?” Gloria tilts her head. “Seems pretty tough to keep watch over the Champion.”

“It is. But.” Nessa smiles. It’s a cold smile. “You needn’t worry. We’ll protect the Champion if – and when – such a time comes.”

Gloria, for all her wariness, doesn’t have the heart to comment on that.

* * *

Bede arrives in Motostoke just after the city streets have become engorged with people. The streets are filled to the brim with tourists and citizens from all over Galar, packed with vendors, peddling merchants, and Pokémon that glower as Bede’s party makes headway through packed streets.

However, even as Bede leads the hunting party back towards a property nestled in the back reaches of Motostoke’s walls, he is quick to notice the way people flock around them.

Or, more specifically, how they flock to Rose.

Woman and men alike gather around the man, fawning over his Mudsdale and calling for his attention as he comes to the forefront. Oleana follows behind him, pursing her lips as snowflakes dance around her. The crowd ignores the icy chill exuding from the woman, instead pressing closer to Rose as they bicker for his attention.

The aristocrats and Fulmen Tamers in Bede’s employment all shoot amused looks at Rose’s gathering of admirers, not looking the least bit sympathetic as they proceed to Bede’s side. The blond man leads them to the edge of the mob, sighing as he waves his hand to Rose.

His father nods in return, giving him the go ahead to do as he pleases. Bede beckons to his hunting party, urging Rapidash to make headway through the ever-growing crowd. The man leads them through the streets, making his way effortlessly to the giant rose red mansion that sits at the north-eastern part of Motostoke’s borders. There, he leads them through silver gates emblazoned with curls of gold, passing through.

Within the vicinity of the gates, Bede’s hunting party scatters. Those on mounts make way to the stables located behind the mansion, several maids rushing to accompany them. Those on foot take the time to stop and mingle, sitting on a perfectly manicured lawn as they discuss the hunt’s success. Meanwhile, the Fulmen Tamers split their tasks between delivering the Thievul corpses to trophy stuffers and redirecting the Boltund hounds to the station where they will be returned to their Pokeballs.

Bede slides off of Rapidash as this all occurs, cradling Nickit in his arms as he does so. Bereft of its horse friend, the creature whines, hissing and snarling as it swipes at Bede’s clothing, still intent on hating him.

A maid comes over to greet Bede, taking Rapidash’s reins. “Make sure to groom her,” he tells the woman firmly. She nods to his request, walking off with Rapidash in her care.

Nearly relieved of his position, Bede finishes up a tedious round of conversations with the participants of the hunt and sends them on their way. They leave with hates, each showering him with a show of flattery before they depart onto the nearby festive streets with the intent to enjoy.

Bede slumps against the silver concrete walls of Rose’s Motostoke mansion, taking a moment to breathe. Then, when he feels ready, he descends through wooden doors and is greeted by a multitude of servants: all of whom are running their various duties and are too busy to greet him. He doesn’t mind though. He has more important things to do: like go to his room and change into more suitable attire than the outfit for the master of a hunt.

As he arrives in his room, he finds it in the exact condition he left it in. Dust lingers on top of the wardrobe as usual, thick and heavy, while emptiness swallows the room like a passing black hole.

Nothing of value sits in this room. It is empty, a void filled with nothing but white. His bed, sheets, wardrobe, walls, door and even his nightstand is white, bland yet somehow an eyesore.

Here, Nickit struggles even more furiously in his arms, getting so feisty that it manages to escape from his grip. The baby fox lands on the ground, growling, and when Bede makes an attempt to pick it up again it swats at him and scurries underneath his bed.

Unwilling to deal with the thing for an extended amount of time, Bede moves to his nightstand and grabs a Pokeball empty and waiting. He pauses, hesitating, before he gets on his knees and looks under his bed.

The Nickit stares back at him, its golden eyes wide with fright as it puffs itself up and shrinks back against the wall of Bede’s room.

He takes pity on it, tossing his Pokeball forward, and it clicks on the creature’s leg, opening up to take the kit inside of it. Once the Pokeball lies still, Bede reaches underneath to grab the capsule into his fingers. He places it back on his nightstand, leaving it out of his mind for the moment as he makes his way to the closet.

The man peels open the white doors to reveal a variety of outfits made ready for him to wear. It’s there that he sheds his current outfit, depositing his tailcoat, shirt, pants and other extremities into a laundry basket left waiting.

He sheds all the way down to his boxers, ignoring the sight of himself in a mirror fastened on the door to the left of him. Then, he grabs a few pieces from his closet wardrobe, idly picking through the clothing until he finds an outfit he likes.

White pants and a white suit jacket alongside white shoes, a gold cravat and a gold dress shirt are one-by-one put on his figure. He slides the suit into place on his body, feeling clothes made from silk encasing him, and then adds a pair of gloves to accentuate the outfit. He also clips his Pokémon to the belt on his pants as a precaution, the blue and red Great Balls standing out as a blemish of color on his otherwise perfect outfit. He grabs Nickit’s Pokeball as well, placing it on the fourth slot of his belt.

He views himself in the mirror afterwards, checking for imperfections in his outfit, and when he finds nothing to fix he exits his barren room and wanders to the front door of his father’s mansion.

There, a maid comes to greet him, dressed in the white apron, black dress and rose pins that Rose requires his special servants to wear. The woman bows to him, curtsying, and then offers up her message.

“The Chairman has requested you meet him at the Motostoke Gym in an hour’s time.” She tells him, voice a perfect monotone. “He has instructed me to tell you that you are free to do as you please until then.”

She departs with that, curtsying yet again before making her departure. Bede looks after her, adjusting one of his gloves, and then pushes through the wooden doors of the mansion. He pauses at the entrance, shooting a look at the stables situated just against the giant wall that isolates Motostoke from the forest on its western border. He contemplates grabbing Rapidash to parade around but decides against it, not wanting to trouble his horse any further.

So, left bereft of her presence and not intent on releasing any of his other Pokémon quite yet, the boy pushes past the silver gates of the mansion’s entrance and steps into the streets. There, he is quick to see the crowds lining the street with an eager buzz, families crowding the stone road before him with a twittering chatter of ecstasy and excitement.

The sight makes Bede’s heart twist. A nostalgic sense of longing stabs into him, cutting into him to lacerate his soul. He restrains the urge to sneer or frown or bite his lip, curling his hands into fists briefly before relaxing.

He decides upon chancing through the streets of Motostoke in the hopes of finding entertainment, wandering aimlessly.

Occasionally, he checks the gold watch adorned on his left wrist, watching the way the device counts down the seconds and finding himself disappointed at how slow it moves.

It even gets to the point he’s so distracted that he doesn’t watch where he’s going. While making headway towards the southern gates of Motostoke, he chances a glance at his watch for the nth time. However, in that split second, his shoulder is struck by a blow and he’s sent scattering back, none the wiser to the fact he has just been sent sitting on his ass.

“Are you alright?” A deep voice asks him.

Bede looks up from fussing over the stains his white suit will surely suffer from (but doesn’t, miraculously) to see a man and two youths standing at his side. The man is a vaguely familiar sight – Bede’s seen enough of his purple hair, gold irises and scaly skin on the telly to recognize him as Leon, Galar’s Titan Champion – but the two at his side are an even more curious sight.

The two youths – a boy and girl probably around Bede’s age – stare at Bede with expressions mixed between pity and uncertainty. Bede recognizes the boy almost immediately, though only because the blue suit threaded with gold lines gives him away.

In Galar, there were three aristocratic factions. Aristocrats being, of course, the most wealthy individuals within the lands of the region. They came in three types, each identified by the name of the faction they hail from.

First were the Vieux Rich. Defined more properly as “old money”, they were the group of aristocrats that had descended from the kings, queens, and nobles of old. Their wealth and prosperity came through a matter of inheritance. From grandparents to parents to children, the wealth moved hands through generations, never wavering, never faltering, always moving down through a lineage formed purely by blood-related offspring.

Second were the Nouveau Rich or “new money”. They, unlike the Vieux Rich, obtained their wealth through the advent of capitalistic enterprise. Their money was not earned simply by being the descendants of Galarian nobility but, rather, it was earned through the hard work and dedication attributed to running one’s own business.

Bede, for all intents and purposes, was a member of the Nouveau Rich. His father, Rose, and mother, Oleana, were also members of that particular aristocratic faction. They had earned their wealth through various methods – Rose, from his Macro Cosmos Conglomeration and Oleana, from the various inventions she put onto the market with Rose’s assistance – and Bede was destined to inherit that all one day. Furthermore, because of Rose’s influence and power throughout the Galar region, Bede’s title as a Nouveau Rich aristocrat didn’t just stop there: many heralded him as the Prince of New Money.

And, while Bede most definitely lived in an age where the kings and queens of Galar were long since dead, the title stuck only because the Galar region holds a strange obsession with nobility.

The man in front of Bede, however, is neither of the Vieux Rich or the Nouveau Rich but a new and upcoming faction of aristocrats: the Riches Conjoint. Meaning, quite liberally, “married riches”, the Riches Conjoint was an aristocratic faction that defined itself by the fact that its members were dedicated to neither of those of old or new riches but, rather, that of the peasantry. The aristocrats that aligned themselves under the banner of Riches Conjoint called themselves the protectors of the peasantry, eager to pronounce themselves as the voices of the poor.

Among the Riches Conjoints, there was a man who was said to have as equal a standing as Bede within his aristocratic faction. He often was said to wear the colors of the faction – the proud gold of the Vieux Riche and the determined blue of the Nouveau Riche mixed into a blend that sported the proud colors of the Riches Conjoints. That, and he was said to have pretty eyes the color of turquoises, irises remarkably similar in color to the likes of them.

And this man who stood before him was dressed in those same colors. He wore a dark blue suit jacket that had gold roses embroidered onto the collar sweeping to the middle of his torso as well as around the cuffs of the outfit. Gold epaulettes also decorate his shoulders, small strands of molten sunlight rustling around in the wind.

But what gets Bede more is the eyes. Turquoise gemstones sparkle inside the man’s eyes, glistening a pretty color that also entrances Bede. The warmth in such a gaze is offputting, unnerving, even, and it makes Bede hesitate as he recalls who this man must be.

Gou Darius. The heir apparent to leading the Riches Conjoint and a man whose parents were of the Vieux Riche while his sponsor – Bede’s father – was of the Nouveau Riche.

The woman standing beside him, however, eludes Bede’s mind. He’s heard rumors of her, yes, but never her name. She was the lady knight appointed by the Champion himself to guard Gou as he rose to leadership within the Riches Conjoint faction. She Gou’s vassal, that much was true, but it was also said her loyalty was sworn between both Gou and Leon, the pair of men owning her guardianship for reasons that still went unknown to Bede.

Despite that, he notices that she is wearing the colors associated to the Champion’s personal staff. The woman is dressed in a red dress with a belt carrying a silver rapier strapped to her waist. Gold leaves dance around the v-neck curve of her outfit, fluttering down in a straight line to her belt and then carrying their way down to the bottom of her dress where they rest in a pile around the circumference of the edges. Red hair tucked into a long braid flutters behind her, a white flower placed at the base of her head and the beginning of the braid to give an air of further elegance to her presence.

A silence hovers in the air before Bede realizes, suddenly, that he’s forgotten to give a response to the question asked of him. He looks at the asker – one Titan Champion – and hurries to his feet, quick to make a deep bow as a show of respect.

“I am alright,” Bede says, tuning his voice into the fine proper tone of an aristocrat. “Thank you for the concern, Champion.”

There’s another pause. Then, Leon asks: “Are you Bede Alodia?”

He looks up at Leon, rising as he does so. Purple locks of hair flutter over the Champion’s shoulders, golden irises sparkling with a youthful warmth as Leon addresses the blond man.

_Never let your guard down around him._

Oleana’s words echo in his mind and he tenses, watching the man with uncertainty.

“I am,” he says.

Leon grins like a supermodel, all stars and sparkles. “Nice to meet you at long last, Alodia,” he says. The man turns to the two beside him, his red cape lined with golden fur swishing behind him. He gestures to Gou and the lady knight, beckoning them forward. The two obey with perfect obedience, hugging the space at Leon’s side as they stare at Bede. “You two remember Chairman Rose, right?”

The pair nod. Bede would’ve expected them to. He knows, after all, of his father’s frequent trips to Hammerlocke, where the Riches Conjoint faction resides in great numbers. It is not unexpected that Gou and his lady knight would know of the man. However, knowing that doesn’t stop the sting of envy Bede feels from pricking at his heart.

“Yeah, we remember him,” Gou says. Then winces as his knight oh-so-gently jabs him in the side and he coughs. “Rather, yes, I do remember him.”

“Well, this is Chairman Rose’s son,” Leon says. The words he speak are light and airy. It is the way someone speaks when they are discussing a fact curious yet of little relevance.

Taking the stage away from Leon, Bede puffs out his chest. “My name is Bede Alodia,” he says, lingering proudly on the last name. He offers his hand to Gou and the lady before him.

The woman accepts immediately, her hand firmly gripping his, and when she lets go her companion is quick to accept. Bede shakes his hand once again, noting the way Gou’s eyes are watching him, waiting, before the boy pulls away and stands dutifully at Leon’s side.

“A pleasure to meet you both,” Bede says. Then, without hesitation he adds “Though, I’m afraid I have no clue who either of _you_ are.” as a jab to the fact they have yet to introduce themselves in the way proper aristocrats always _should_.

Gou narrows his eyes at that, curling his lips as if inflamed by a sudden flare of irritation. “I’m Gou,” the man says, standing tall as he adds: “Gou Darius of Hammerlocke.”

The white-haired man grins, finding amusement in the suddn ire directed his way. “Oh, you mean you’re the infamous prince everyone of wealth keeps yammering about?” He runs his fingers through his hair, letting the nonchalance of his words send Gou tense with irritation. Then, he turns to the woman, grinning as he says: “Which makes you the girl who plays around as his knight?”

As he says that, bubbles edged with stardust flutter in his vision to show him a scene most unfortunate. The sudden flare of precognition allows him to jump back just in time as Koharu pulls at her blade and slashes at empty air.

He clicks his tongue, lamenting her lack of self-control with a shake of his head.

“What a temper,” he says in warning. “You should be careful who you swing that at. If I were any other aristocrat, I’d be screaming for your head on the guillotine. Especially if you wounded me so easily.”

The woman looks incensed at his claims, bristling like a cat as she holds her sword between them.

“That was a warning,” she snaps in return.

“A warning? For what? For your masters’ lack of showing common courtesy?” Bede looks at her, watching as she tenses. “For that matter, where is _your_ courtesy? I presented my name to you. Why haven’t you presented yours?”

She looks at him with narrowed eyes, sheathing her sword in a show of reluctance as she gives him a curtsy. “I am Koharu,” she says. “I am the knight appointed by the Champion to protect Gou, heir apparent to the Riches Conjoint.”

“Well, Koharu,” he flicks his gaze up and down her, noting the way she seems to tense as he does so. “If it were not for me jumping out of the way of your blow, were you aware that your sword would have cut my cheek and left a scar behind?”

“I wouldn’t have hurt you,” she instantly denies with a hint of a growl to her voice. “I didn’t aim to strike.”

He recalls the vision that had flashed into his mind seconds before Koharu had made her move and smirks. “Oh, on the contrary,” he tells her, knowing ripe in his voice, “your blade would have gone a bit too far and cut my cheek if I had stood there. Which would have been a _pain_ to explain to the Chairman that his beloved Hammerlocke fellows had hurt his son.”

He pauses, suppressing a grimace at that very thought. If he show up with even the slightest blemish to his person during the upcoming ceremony, it will definitely make Rose lose face among the public. And Bede, who adores the man wholly, has no intention of ruining Rose’s reputation. Especially at the cost of some woman’s hot-tempered reaction.

“It seems that blow lacked control too,” Bede tells her, recalling the way her sword had swung and calling upon his own sword-fighting lessons tucked in his memory to guide his words. “Yet, you look familiar with that blade,” he nods his head at the way Koharu moves as if her sword is one with her body, extending it outwards to further the barrier between them. “Are you really that prideful that a simple insult shakes you so easily?”

The woman looks stricken. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says in the voice of a liar, voice almost trembling as she adds: “I was in control the entire time.”

He restrains the need to sneer at the words she speaks like parts of a chant. “Keep telling yourself that,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Leon’s rough voice interrupts them. “Alright.” He says. “That’s enough you two.” He runs a hand through his purple hair and then waits until the both of them are staring at him to continue. “We’re not here to quarrel today. Rather, we’re here to enjoy the festivities. So I’d rather the two of you _not_ fight like children. Especially not when we know Chairman Rose expects great things from all of us today.”

At the sound of his father’s name, Bede barely represses a flinch. A coil of bile arises like steam in the back of his throat, forcing him to swallow as he nods his head. The man shoves his hands into the pockets of his white suit and kicks at the ground. “You’re right,” he mutters, “my apologies.”

“As long as you realize it, you’re okay,” Leon smiles a kind smile full of sincerity. Bede is almost tempted by that smile, looking to be reassured, when his mother’s words lacerate through him yet again and he hesitates.

“Right then.” Bede says, bowing before the three as a show of courtesy. “I’ll be going now.”

He departs on that note, finding himself unwilling to continue the argument he has laid the foundations for. He sticks his hands into his pockets, feeling the gaze of the three stuck on his back as he retreats.

 _The heir apparent to the Riches Conjoint and the woman who declares herself his protector…_ He rubs his chin, musing as he takes yet again to aimlessly wandering the streets of Motostoke. Something about the pair has struck his curiosity. The black-haired man and the red-haired woman are certainly people to keep an ear out for. They’re rarities in an aristocratic society divided by the methods of obtaining one’s wealth – figureheads of a system matched only by that of the Champion’s own.

He checks his watch, finding it time to meet up with his father. He strides down Motostoke’s streets, carefully making his way through a gathering crowd, and finds that already one of the major roads is being cleared of people. He looks into the crowd, searching for familiar faces, and finds three of them standing in front of a large, towering stadium made from red bricks. He makes his way over to the building, standing tall as he edges his way towards the glass doors of the building.

There, he meets Rose in front of what can only be the Motostoke gym, finding the man talking to an older man wearing a towel around his neck. The pair are standing outside glass doors, chatting amiably, and when Bede arrives before them he realizes that the older man is Kabu, the Ignifer in charge of Motostoke’s protection and prosperity.

When Kabu sees him coming their way, he nods politely, giving a bow of his head, and Bede reciprocates with a bow of his own.

From there, Rose takes the time to speak, urging Bede to his side as he says: “Glad you could make it.”

“We were worried you wouldn’t show,” Oleana adds in a teasing voice, appearing from Rose’s side to fuss over Bede’s cravat. She pats his shoulder when she’s done, her voice a warm contrast to the icy touch of her fingers. “The Champion is making his way here now. Look your best for him, alright?”

He stares up at her, her previous words – _“He’s quite a deceiving man. Full of lies and tricks. As all Titans are.”_ \- still echoing in his mind as he furrows his eyebrows and looks her over.

Despite his mother’s pleasant smile, he can feel the air of iciness that wafts off of her and seeps into his clothing. Oleana is tense, the nails of her right hand biting into her left wrist as she holds her arms in front of her. He can sense the way she’s hiding something from the public eye, coldness turning her otherwise warm gaze icy.

He turns to meet his father’s gaze, disturbed by his mother’s behavior, but finds the man is all smiles and grins as he beckons Bede alongside him. The man obeys, dutifully standing at Rose’s side. And he finds that, unlike Oleana, Rose shows no outward behavior to betray any signs of distress.

A wave of cheer sends Bede staring out into the crowd of people waiting for an opportunity to see the Champion. Having met him just a little earlier in the day, he feels less eager to see the man in person. However, while catching a glimpse of him a little ways down the road, appearing in sight with Gou and Koharu escorting him, Bede can’t help but be captured in the awe for a moment’s glance.

Leon, adorned in an outfit of a red tailcoat with a black collar, a red cape edged with gold fur, a black hat and a white cravat, makes his way through the streets with an aura of charm matched only by Bede’s father.

The Titan’s name is shouted throughout the crowd, admirers twittering for his affection as he progresses down the stone path that leads to Kabu’s gym. Even the Pokémon are peering curiously at the man who arrives before them, nestled on rooftops and sitting at the feet of countless individuals as they stare.

Bede watches as Leon walks closer and closer, Gou and Koharu dutifully guiding him towards the entrance of the Motostoke Gym. He crosses his arms, waiting for the Champion to come closer, when a blow strikes his head from out of nowhere. He winces, a hand held up to press against his forehead, when his future sight activates without warning, showing him a myriad of futures that bombard him ceaselessly.

Windows upon windows of futures coated in golden dust appear before him with the same result: showcasing a woman with a Delphox unleashing a psychic bomb onto the crowd before him. Blood will splatter everywhere, sharp jolts of purple energy cackling as screams will ricochet across a crowd stampeding in fear.

He inhales sharply at the sight, peering through the thousands of windows showcasing this same result, and then decides what he must do.

He turns to his father, telling the dark-skinned man “I’ll be right back” just as he leaves his post. Rose’s face becomes riddled with confusion – as does Oleana’s – but Bede has little time to worry about either of them as he pushes his way into the crowd before him.

The man relies on his precognition to guide him, sifting through countless windows of futures to come as he weaves through the bodies around him.

Then, he spots the mysterious woman whose intentions have strangely activated his psychic abilities. A Delphox trails behind her, gliding through the crowd with red eyes calm and placid. Bede can sense the psychic energy wafting off the creature as he approaches, sinister intentions hidden behind the mask of calm its owner wears.

Bede soon gets within reach of the mysterious stranger, close enough to touch her. She seems none the wiser to his approach, her eyes focused on one thing and one thing only. But Bede isn’t eager to let her continue. He steps towards her, reaching out a hand and-

* * *

By the time the Corviknight Taxi touches down upon the ground, Gloria is exhausted.

After a tedious string of conversations met with equally tedious answers – “What’s your hometown?” “Ambrette Town”, “Have you ever seen the Glittering Cave, I heard it’s quite beautiful.” “I’ve seen it before, madam, and yes it is quite beautiful.” – Gloria is about ready to slump over in the carriage and never wake up.

Luckily for her, however, Delphox won’t allow that. The bipedal fox is quick to nose her awake, jolts of psychic energy pricking her skin until her sleepiness comes undone as Nessa departs the taxi cabin.

“Here,” Nessa offers a hand to her and Gloria takes it. The Syreni woman leads her down from the carriage, her hand warm and gentle, and Gloria regrets the pangs of something sour bubbling in the back of her throat as Nessa offers her up a warm smile. “Thanks for accompanying me on my ride. I’ll have to be on my way now but I hope you enjoy the festivities.”

Nessa leaves on that note, quickly swallowed up by a passing crowd that takes notice of her. Gloria watches her go, Delphox sidling at her side with an air of righteousness. Behind them, the Caelifera in charge of the silver Corviknight waves goodbye to Gloria, taking off on her bird only to dip down into the atrium roof of a nearby Corviknight Taxi Station.

The brown-haired woman, finally left alone, stretches. Delphox watches her, observing as always. She beckons it along as she takes to the streets of Motostoke, observing the buildings around her with idle curiosity.

All around her, the people settling within the gates of Motostoke push and pull, excitement bristling in the air. All around her, vendors are shouting to pull customers into buying their wares while kids and adults alike frolic with stars in their eyes.

Delphox seems almost disturbed at the frenzy of the festivities occurring all around them, a faint crackle of psychic energy creating goosebumps on Gloria’s skin. She considers telling it to calm down but knows that such attempts will easily be made fruitless. Her Pokémon is sensitive to her emotions, able to read them the way one deciphers a terrible poker face. Even if she tries to tell him to calm down he will not be able to until she herself is calm.

So, taking in a deep breath to settle her nerves, she focuses herself on remaining tranquil, chasing away all her festering doubts and insignificant fears. Delphox reacts to her self-pacification by gradually relaxing, the furs on its coat settling down just as it adopts a look of peacefulness.

The woman nods at her creature, satisfied. She secludes away the insecurities in her heart, taking brave steps forward through the streets. Delphox follows in step with her, travelling at her side the way a gentleman might, and the pair travel in search of a certain objective.

“Where do you think the Champion would be?” Gloria asks her companion. “Do you think you could teleport me to him?”

It shoots her a placid look.

“Right. You can’t teleport me to specific people, is it?” Gloria shakes her head. “Back to square one.”

But square one is as useless as a hypothetical square zero. The streets of Motostoke are _packed_ with people, so many people, and the woman hardly knows where to start to find her target of interest. She frolics at a smooth pace, winding her way through the rivers of citizens flowing across stone brick roads, and finds herself limited to finding entertainment in people-watching.

Among the citizens she sees making headway through the streets, she spots a couple of individuals who briefly catch her eye. A woman in a yellow petticoat jacket stops to talk to a waiter while accompanied by two men who press behind her in interest. A tempting smell of chips and hamburgers follows, making Gloria’s mouth water, but she finds she has little time to linger on temptations.

A little ways farther from the group of five is a lone woman walking the streets. A Morpeko sits atop her shoulder, chewing furiously at several dozen nuts as the black-haired individual scans the crowd in search of something. Something about that woman sends Gloria hastily looking away just as her gaze nearly meets Gloria’s. Trepidation fills her, sending Delphox into another fit of bristling, and Gloria is quick to smooth over her own outburst of emotions. She can’t let her Pokémon become provoked earlier than planned, after all, and arousing any sense of suspicion will do her little good.

The woman, however, continues on, winding her way through the streets of Motostoke in an attempt to find her target of interest. However, the Champion is hard to find. Even with purple hair, gold eyes, and a fanbase that fawns over him for miles, all the rumors that make it to Gloria’s ear – “The Champion is in the central square right now!”, “I just saw Champion Leon talking with two kids in front of the flower shop. Isn’t he the sweetest?”, “I heard Champion Leon is at the steam lift right now! Hurry, let’s catch him!” - turn out to lead her to locations where she is just a little too late to catch the infamous Titan.

Someone makes a fuss, running through the streets while urging others to step aside. Men and women dressed in oddly-colored uniforms follow in his wake, pushing the masses to the sidewalks. Gloria is shoved backwards in the confusion, tossed and jostled like a sack of potatoes as she is spun towards the front entrance of Motostoke’s gym. Delphox follows her with ease, not sharing her frustration as the crowd parts around it, and it is only when everyone is packed like a can of sardines on the sidewalks of the road that she finds room to rest.

While doing so, an unexpected roar takes the crowd around her. There’s the sound of confetti poppers _puh-popping_ as a flock of trainer-ridden Corviknights hover in the sky, and Gloria feels anticipation slickening her skin with sweat as she stares beyond the thickness of the crowd and onto the empty street that lays before her.

There, she spots the Champion of Galar at long last.

The Titan man strides through the street the way a bird swoops through the air, moving freely and without care as the festering crowds cheer his name. Confetti rains down all around him, bits of colored paper dancing in the sunlight as he descends down the stone road that leads to Motostoke’s gym.

Burning anger, low and steaming, sears Gloria’s heart at the sight of the man. She approaches Leon with eager steps, Delphox following behind her as the pair of them try to reach the forefront of the crowd. Psychic energy crackles from Delphox, a haze of something powerful building like pressure in the air.

Gloria finds she has forgotten everything in that moment she spends breaking through the river of people calling Leon’s name. She cannot remember how to breathe, how to walk, how to think or even how to stop as she barrels forward, intent on one thing and one thing only.

No one stops her. No one doubts her. They all take one look at her, puzzled, and then continue their shouting as she shoves past them. Gloria wonders if the mask she wears on her face – the look of vivid calm that is echoed on her Pokémon’s own features – is enough to deceive anyone of importance for just the amount of time she needs. Do the people who glimpse her suspect nothing of her movements? Do they look upon her and see a woman who is making her way to glimpse the legendary Champion in the flesh? She wonders, but does not think.

Then, when she arrives only a few heads away from where the Champion is standing, waving to his people, something catches her and yanks her back.

Gloria hisses, Delphox snarling beside her at the intrusion, when the fox’s aggression gives way to sudden confusion. She frowns at her Pokémon, puzzled herself, when she looks down to the obstruction clinging to her like a baby Dreepy.

A hand with long, slender fingers is clutched around her wrist, a gold watch dangling on its premises. The hand is connected to an arm wearing a sleeve of white silk, which in turn connects to the face of a man with white – almost platinum blond - hair. Purple eyes greet her gaze as she stares at the stranger’s face, her lips unrestrained from curling upwards as she slaps his hand away.

“Who are you?” She demands.

The man holds up his now-red hand to his chest, bowing low to her as he says, almost mockingly: “I’m just a friendly bystander stopping you from doing something you’ll terribly regret. That is, the exploding of people left and right in order to reach your goal.”

He words it like a joke, momentarily flicking his gaze to the people around him, and then shoots her a look full of something that tears into Gloria like tissue paper. She freezes at the challenge in his gaze, her previous mask of calm shattering to something like panic.

Delphox instantly comes to her side, snarling at the man, but the stranger seems unaffected by the psychic energy jolting all around them.

“I was attempting no such thing,” she says, keeping her voice just as light and airy as his had been. “I’m not crazy.”

Purple eyes poke and prod at her. He slinks towards her. A strange, almost childish gleam is in his eyes as he presses close, his voice dropping to a whisper as he says: “Ah, but you were trying to kill the Champion just now, were you not?”

She yanks back from him, Delphox cushioning the stagger in her steps. Sudden panic shoots through her, fear and nausea rising at the certainty sparking in the man’s voice.

The psychic energy crackling in the air grows stronger, enough to feel like something sharp is about to stab into Gloria’s skin. The people pressed around her must feel it too as they hastily back away, eyeing the bristling Delphox standing beside her with an air of uncertainty.

“Calm your Pokémon,” the man says. “I hold no ill will.”

Delphox opens its mouth at that, revealing the sharp teeth hidden behind golden lips as the fox brandishes its favored stick before it. The tip glows with a purple light, lavender sparks dancing off of it.

“I don’t trust you.”

He shrugs. “Fair enough. But,” he tightens his grip on her wrist, “I’ll tell you this. You can’t – and won’t – escape me.”

Gloria yanks her arm from his grip. However, his hand is firmly enclosed around her wrist, holding it tightly in place. “You don’t know that,” she spits.

“Yes I do.” He taps the corner of his left eye with his free hand. Then his right. “After all, I can see the future.”

The implication is instant. “Precognition?” Gloria’s heart plummets to her stomach. A wave of ice shudders through her. To think she would meet another Clairvoyant here, much less one who can see the future…it _terrifies_ her. She struggles against his grip, looking to Delphox for help, but the fox only flicks his gaze to the hand on her wrist, his message clear: _I cannot harm him without harming you too._

“Hey,” the stranger says, softly, his grip still tight on her wrist, “it’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you or turn you into the authorities.” She stiffens, pausing to look at him. “I’m just stopping you from doing something that you’re going to regret.” He nods his head in the direction of Leon, whispering: “After all, your attempted attack on him won’t work. That man is protected by a Pokémon powerful enough to stop your Delphox’s psychic bomb, after all.”

She follows his gaze, inhaling sharply as she notices the outline of something transparent trailing after the man. A long and slender form cloaked in near-invisibility hovers around Leon’s head, watching like a guardian spirit as it swirls and spins.

“Why are you telling me this?” She looks back at the man. “What do you want from me?” She adds, noting the way a smile grows on his face.

“Like I said before, I’m stopping you from making a horrible mistake. However,” he steps backwards, tugging her after him. “There is someone I would like you to meet. If you will.”

Already, she can tell this man is cunning. There is no denying it. With only his words and his actions, he’s essentially bound her in submission, making her lose her nerve so easily.

 _He’s seen my face…he knows who I am…he knows what I want to do._ Countless facts flit through her mind. Even if she runs away now, breaking into the crowd to elude him as best she can, he would easily be able to find her again. Not only that but if he turns her over to the authorities…

She tugs against at the man’s demanding grip. “And what if I don’t want to? You’re just going to lead me to the police aren’t you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you were thinking it.”

He sighs. “Look,” he runs his hand through his white locks, “whatever you’re thinking, I’m not going to just hand you over. I know what you’re afraid of. And I agree. The death penalty for attempted assassination is pretty scary.” He pauses. “But, you haven’t killed Leon yet. You haven’t made a mistake. And that’s why I think it would be beneficial for you to come with me.”

“And why should I?”

The man’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second. “You’re a Clairvoyant, are you not?” He asks in a voice much too soft for Gloria’s liking.

She hesitates. “…Yeah,” she says. “I am.”

His grip gets more insistent. “Then come with me. I promise I’ll show you something worth your time.”

Gloria obeys out of complete reluctance, finding no other option but to comply with his demands. _I’ll wait for an opening and then-_

The white-haired man guides her through the crowd the way a gentleman might, staying by her side and escorting her forward without showing her his back. Delphox follows at Gloria’s side, waiting, but it is clear it does not want to act without a guaranteed chance of harming this stranger only. She bites her bottom lip in frustration, letting this stranger lead her towards the direction of the Motostoke Gym. Panic rises in her throat yet again, bile ascending like acid, and she feels nausea biting at her as she tries to yank away.

However, the man’s grip tightens just moments before she does the action, resulting in an awkward flail of limbs. The man looks over at her, purple eyes glinting with foresight, and she finds that he is most definitely using his Clairvoyant ability to keep her in place.

Delphox growls in annoyance. She runs a hand through its fur, finding comfort in its presence.

Eventually, the man who leads her through the crowd brings her before three individuals. A man with dark skin and a red rose pinned to a gray suit…a brown-haired woman with a white lab coat…and a man with graying hair and sweat-drenched towel wrapped around his neck glance over her as the stranger brings her before them.

“Bede,” the dark-skinned says, looking over Gloria’s escort and then to Gloria herself. “Who is that?”

The words, while condescending in any other context, smart with bafflement. Her escort – Bede – tightens his grip on Gloria’s hand, looking between the three before beckoning with a sharp jerk of his head to the right. The woman with the lab coat nods, turning to apologize to the stranger with the towel, and then the pair of adults follow Bede as he leads Gloria into a secluded alleyway.

 _Wonderful._ She thinks as the two strangers press around her, all furrowed eyebrows and curious stares. Bede beams to the both of them, keeping his grip on Gloria’s hand.

“What is the meaning of this, Bede?” The man with the rose pin asks. Then, when silence hangs in the air a little too long, he adds: “It’s unusual for you to bring someone to us.”

“She was about to blow up the Champion,” he says. “I stopped her. I thought that might interest you.”

Gloria looks at him, eyes wide in alarm. _What are you doing?_ She wants to scream. _What is going on here?_

“Oh?” The woman looks over him, an edge of something firm yet uncertain in her voice. “And what makes you think that?”

“My ability, naturally.”

“And what did your ability show you?”

“That the fact this woman tried to kill the Champion gives you a reason to give her asylum.” Bede looks over to Gloria. She narrows her eyes at him, yanking her hand yet again, but, as expected, his grip remains firm.

“It’s not like you to take an interest in someone, Bede,” the man says. “I’m curious as to why you brought her to us.”

Bede’s wavering silence seems to give the stranger his answer. He chuckles, turning to look at Gloria. However, much to her shock, his eyes are kind, sparkling with a vivid warmth. “It’s not everyday someone has the guts to try and kill our Champion by themselves. I can say I’m impressed.”

“And why is that?” She snaps back.

He shares a look with the woman beside him. She steps forward, bowing her head to Gloria. “You see, it looks like we all have the same goal here.”

“The same goal?”

“Well, perhaps not _exactly_ the same but, well, close enough.” The stranger nods his head to the roaring crowd strewn before them. Already, Leon is making his way to the glass doors of the building, his companions looking somewhere between awe-struck and baffled as they pass through. “You see, I love Galar. I love this region and I love it with both my heart and soul.”

“…Okay?” She watches him, tense, as he begins to circle her, observing her, _watching_ her. Delphox growls at him, biting, but one look at Bede’s hand still encircled around Gloria’s wrist has him keeping his distance.

“My only purpose in life is to ensure that Galar remains forever prosperous. It is for that reason that I, Chairman Rose, have dedicated my life to serving this region with the power of my company, Macro Cosmos.”

Macro Cosmos…Gloria has come upon that name before. While researching Galar for an opportune time to assassinate the Champion, she’s of course encountered the name of his favorite sponsor. The company was relatively new in the great span of things – a business conglomeration that had sprung up overnight (or so the rumors went) – but its power and influence within the region of Galar was almost unmatched.

“The Chairman and I are quite dedicated to maintaining Galar’s livelihood,” the woman in the lab coat says. “It is for that reason that we have founded Macro Cosmos in the first place.”

“Why are people as powerful as you taking interest in someone like me?” Gloria asks after a moment of stunned surprise. “Why help me? Shouldn’t protecting Leon be your goal here? He is your primary sponsored person, is he not?”

Rose chuckles. “A wise thought.” He puts his hands behind his back, looking over her. “However, as it is now, I can no longer allow our current Champion to reign much longer.”

She furrows her eyebrows as Oleana steps in to offer a further explanation. “The current Champion has been indulging in behavior that is unacceptable to the health and prosperity of Galar’s future,” she says. “We’ve been watching him from afar and we’ve noticed… _things._ ”

“Things?”

“Our Champion isn’t as wonderful as he projects himself to be,” Rose continues. “His actions – such as the neglect of poverty-stricken Spikemuth, the use of public funds to throw lavish ceremonies such as these, not to mention the countless times he’s abandoned his post for a bit of ‘fun’– have led the populace of Galar to suffer for his incompetence _and_ his corruption. Therefore, for quite some time now, we’ve been looking for a way to put him in his place.”

The brown-haired woman frowns. “And how does this concern me?”

“I want Galar to remain prosperous,” Rose says. “But you must understand, there are certain risks I, myself, cannot take to maintain that prosperity. In order to keep my region happy, after all, I cannot endanger my position as Chairman.”

She stares at him, waiting. Beside her, Bede lets go of her hand, apparently deeming it safe enough to do so as he sidles in-between Rose and Oleana. The man’s gaze is full of infatuation, his head bowed out of dutiful respect as he listens to their proceedings.

Delphox, meanwhile, twitches its ears beside her. Its face is calm now, waiting, and Gloria runs her hand through his fur.

The man before her continues in a voice that sparkles with a strange kind of charisma, tempting and warm yet threatening of cold. Gloria is starting to see where this is going. And, she’s not as afraid as she was before.

“I want to make sure Galar’s future is secured for an eternity and beyond. So how about this?” Rose says, watching as she shrinks back when he hovers over her. “Let’s make a deal, you and I.”

“A deal.” She repeats the words out of necessity.

“Yes, a deal.” Rose smiles a cold smile as he offers up his hand to her. “You join me…and I’ll allow you the pleasure of destroying Leon yourself.”

His words ooze with sincerity.

Gloria takes his hand in an instant.

“Deal.”

* * *

Something about Motostoke unnerves Koharu.

The steam city whirrs with life, moving gears of steel and iron _cli-clicking_ their way into churning up the waters below to produce electricity. Crowds of people flourish on streets made from stone while Pokémon nestle on nearby rooftops and scurry between the legs of hapless children.

Ever since she’s stepped foot in the city, she’s felt something strange in the air, a tingling sensation of nerves and paranoia that devours her.

By all means, the very sight unfurling before her should be no cause for alarm. The people frolicking the streets are gathering in celebration just as the Pokémon that wander aimlessly are enjoying in the delights of crowd-made ecstasy. Joy lights up the world around her, worries and anxieties washed away in favor of merriment and the blissful turn of a blind eye to the plights of civilization.

That said, she cannot shake the way the hairs on the back of her neck are constantly standing up, intuition making her nervous as she peels through the streets of Motostoke. Koharu shudders at the feeling, a hand resting ceaselessly on the hilt of the rapier attached to her waist. A few send her wary looks for doing so, looking her up and down – _A little girl with a sword? What’s she doing, playing knight? –_ but Koharu is undeterred by whispers meant to sneer.

She shall not part from her weapon even if it costs her the ire of those who wander in the streets, knowing better than to put her trust in the happy folly of a crowd drawn to the likes of festivities.

Her best friend, on the other hand, partakes in the gaiety of the city in every way he can, chatting up the locals with fervent passion and securing himself the flattery of every old woman in sight. The man’s face – carved with eyes of turquoise and easily established by the ceaseless look of exasperated jubilation that paints his features – stares at the sights and sounds before him with the admiration of a child. Even as he carries himself the way a gentleman might, proper poise and posture evident in every step, Koharu can read the way he’s absolutely _bubbling_ with a desire to let loose and be free, to twirl his way around the city and babble lovingly at the way Motostoke sets a fire of passion loose in him.

However, perhaps due to the presence of their escort and current guardian, Gou reigns himself in with surprising ease, all smiles and waves as the people of Motostoke come to glance upon him.

“Isn’t this place wonderful?” Their escort says. “Motostoke’s the capital of Galar, if you two didn’t already know. Which might be kind of obvious: especially seeing how _huge_ these crowds are!”

Their escort. Champion Leon. The current ruler of Galar as well as Koharu’s personal idol. He was a Titan, a man of old Dragon’s blood who could command even the fiercest of dragons at his beck and call, but he was also Gou’s only known equivalent as well as Koharu’s mentor in all things regarding the use of her sword.

Having visited her and her friend since childhood, Leon was pretty much one of the few adults in Koharu’s life she actively trusted. He was a good man. Kind, even. And he was quick to support her dream of becoming like the Galarian Knights, encouraging her to do her best in order to support her best friend and reach the same level of epicness that the knights of old did.

“People really came here just for some secret announcement?” Gou peers around him, looking somewhat stifled.

“Nah, they’re here for me, obviously,” Leon grins a dazzling grin. “Just kidding. They’re probably here to know what all the hype is about. After all, I _did_ spend days upon days advertising this event just for today!”

“Still, it’s rather strange,” Koharu says, ignoring the chilly breeze of wind that slithers across her cheek. “If you don’t know what the announcement is about, why bother coming? Some people must’ve travelled here from all the other regions right?” She asks this while pointing to a woman tucked from head to toe in Ursaring furs, the stranger shivering at what Koharu considers to be a pleasant day. “Why spend all that money to come here for some unknown announcement?”

At this, Gou clicks his tongue at her. “Come on, Koharu! Where’s _your_ excitement? This is a once in a lifetime event! Everyone is gathering to see what Leon has to say! And while I’m pretty sure the annual gym challenge is going to get its own special announcement-” here, Gou grins conspiratorially at Leon, “-most people are here to have the _experience_ of hearing this huge secret in person!”

She looks him over. His excitement, all bubbly and warm, his gaze full of stars, was perhaps infectious. Koharu can feel a smile despite herself, giving her friend and liege an exasperated sigh as she says: “I still don’t see why I needed to come to this. Or why _you_ needed to come to this, for that matter.”

There’s a slight hissing that suddenly rings in her ears. Koharu tries to ignore it as she focuses on her childhood friend, goose bumps festering like maggots on her skin.

“Because Leon said I’m needed so I’m needed,” Gou fixes the collar of his dark blue suit jacket, looking pleased with himself as he does so. If one were to look at him closer, perhaps they would even say he’s preening.

She rolls her eyes. Gou was being dramatic. Even as he carries himself the way an aristocrat might, steps smooth and calm, there is no denying the childish glimmer in his eyes as he stays at Leon’s side.

A sudden air of chill strikes her out of her musing.

Something cold traces across her cheek. A ribbon of something ghosts past, slimy and yet icy to the touch.

Koharu gets so distracted by it she doesn’t notice that she’s accidentally knocked into someone in the process.

She jumps back, hand to the hilt of her rapier, when Gou instantly brushes shoulders with her. The woman doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s telling her to back down. She releases her hand from her sword, peering down to stare at a white-haired youth looking up from them from the ground.

Leon moves beside the pair, a look of concern vivid on his face as he stares at the fallen lad.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

There’s a ruminating pause from the stranger. Then, he hurries to his feet, bowing the way one would to someone of much higher status.

 _I feel like I recognize him…_ Koharu thinks absently. Though, she can’t place a name and a title to the man dressed in white silk before them.

“I am alright,” the man says in perfect politeness. “Thank you for your concern, Champion.”

Beside Koharu, Leon’s face seems to light up with an air of recognition. “Are you Bede Alodia?”

Hm?

Has Koharu heard that name before?

The man rises from his bow. Purple eyes alight with hesitance regard Leon with uncertainty. There is a stiffness in the stranger’s posture, a strange kind of defensiveness that makes Koharu more uneasy than she already is. Even the strange fickle coldness of the air that comes and goes around her does little to upset her as much as this man does.

“I am.”

Leon grins with a mouth full of teeth. “Nice to meet you at long last, Alodia,” he says with a bout of ragged enthusiasm, turning to Gou and Koharu to beckon them to his side. Koharu obeys, as does her friend, and the two of them sit at the Champion’s side to stare at Bede.

“This is Chairman Rose’s son,” Leon tells them. “You two remember Chairman Rose, right?”

Koharu does. She’s seen the man before.

Like Leon, Rose was a benefactor who’d overseen Gou and her since they were children. He was a kind man with warm eyes and he never failed to lend a listening ear to the troubles eating away at them. He and his secretary – a woman who looks terribly cold yet who speaks so warmly – were both very accommodating and therefore very welcomed in Koharu’s life.

Beside her, Gou does a telltale dance of his feet. His gaze is strife with wariness, turquoise eyes peering over Bede in mild interest. Koharu can tell he’s restraining himself from asking questions, holding in countless inquiries that he will doubtlessly fuss over when he reaches a private moment.

“Yeah,” the man says, his sudden air of posh lost for something peculiarly like passionate curiosity. “We remember him.”

Bede’s eyes grow dark and Koharu realizes it’s because Gou has already lost his sense of aristocratic discipline. She jabs her friend in the side, eager to make him realize the gravity of his error.

The man peers at her, an eyebrow raising, before the message flashed before him finally hits and he coughs. His voice smooths out with politeness as he says: “Rather, yes, I do remember him.”

Leon nods. “Well, this is Chairman Rose’s son,” he gestures yet again to Bede. The white-haired man swells out his chest, looking rather prideful of the fact Leon’s stated whimsically.

“My name is Bede Alodia,” he says, all ego and arrogance mixed into one. His last name is emphasized with a proud _harrumph_ of his voice, snooty condescension far too evident in his voice.

Still, Bede is quick not to leave them hanging. He offers up his hand to Koharu and Gou, eager to make use of pleasantries.

Koharu grips his hand before Gou can, squeezing tightly. Bede looks pleased at her eager gusto, almost approving, before he turns to Gou. The man’s eyes widen before he accepts, shaking Bede’s hand as he seems to stare and observe him, peering and pondering.

When the handshake ends, however, Gou gives an air of relief, stepping to Leon’s side just in time with Koharu.

“A pleasure to meet you both,” Bede says. Then, he pauses, eyes sparking with a righteous sense of annoyance. “Though, I’m afraid I have no clue who either of _you_ are.”

Any respect Koharu feels for this man disintegrates with those words. A telltale challenge lies in Bede’s last spoken sentence, one that crosses over the line of subtle condescension and oh-so-casually eases its way into belittlement.

Beside her, Gou narrows his eyes, obviously made just as irritated. He curls his lips, never one to avert a challenge, and pulls himself to his full height. “I’m Gou. Gou Darius of Hammerlocke.”

Bede grins, seemingly amused by the proper declaration Gou gives. “Oh, you mean you’re the infamous prince everyone of wealth keeps yammering about?” The man combs his fingers through his air, almost sneering as he turns to Koharu. “Which makes you the girl who plays around as his knight?”

The woman acts without thinking. She draws her rapier from its place on her waist, letting the light of the sun sparkling overhead reflect from her blade as she swings it in Bede’s direction. Her blow is swift, a mere taunting swing, but Bede is able to step back just in time to avoid its kiss on his cheek.

Bede clicks his tongue when her blade completes its path, hovering in midair as she awkwardly lets it rest at her side.

“What a temper,” he says. “You should be careful who you swing that at. If I were any other aristocrat, I’d be screaming for your head on the chopping block. Especially if you wounded me so easily.”

She is tempted to lash out again with her sword but keeps it close to her, trying to rein in her flare of temper. Still, that doesn’t keep her from holding it between her and him, eyes narrowing as she snaps: “That was a warning.”

“A warning?” Bede seems to feign puzzlement. “For what? For your masters’ lack of showing common courtesy?” He leers at her, having already found the link between her and the two men next to her. “For that matter, where is _your_ courtesy? I presented my name to you. Why haven’t you presented yours?”

Koharu sheathes her sword and performs a curtsy. “I am Koharu,” she says. “I am the knight appointed by the Champion to protect Gou, heir apparent to the Riches Conjoint faction.”

“Well, Koharu,” Bede’s gaze slithers up and down her body. She feels goosebumps unravel on her skin. It is an unwelcoming feeling. Yet, the trail of ice that strikes across her skin now, almost phantasmal in touch, has been haunting her since well in the morning. She’s used to the goosebumps now. “If it were not for me jumping out of the way of your blow, were you aware that your sword would have cut my cheek and left a scar behind?”

The claim of her having an intent to harm him sends her bristling. “I wouldn’t have hurt you.” She snaps. “I didn’t aim to strike.”

He smirks an infuriating smirk. “Oh, on the contrary,” he speaks with a tone of knowing that sends Koharu stepping back, “your blade would have gone a bit too far and cut my cheek if I had stood there. Which would have been a _pain_ to explain to the Chairman that his beloved Hammerlocke fellows had hurt his son.”

The man pauses for a moment. Then continues.

“It seems that blow lacked control too. Yet you look familiar with that blade. Are you really that prideful that a simple insult shakes you so easily?”

Koharu furrows her eyebrows. Had her blows been so lackluster that she would’ve dealt him damage? Or were his words so rife with ill intent that she was being riled by him so easily? She can’t tell, doesn’t know, just keeps her sword between them as she says: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was in control the entire time.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Her rapier leans closer, just an inch, but it is stopped by the voice of someone beside her.

“Alright. That’s enough you two.”

Beside her, Leon runs a hand through his hair.

“We’re not here to quarrel today.” He says to the both of them. “Rather, we’re here to enjoy the festivities. So I’d rather the two of you _not_ fight like children. Especially not when we know Chairman Rose expects great things from all of us today.”

At the sound of the Chairman’s name, Koharu can’t help but notice how Bede seems to wince. He puts his hands in his pockets, kicking at the ground, and mutters: “You’re right. My apologies.”

“As long as you realize it, you’re okay,” Leon smiles a very nice smile. It’s the kind he radiates like sunshine and sparkles, all warm and welcoming without anything to fear from.

Somehow, however, something catches Koharu’s breath. She struggles for air, unable to breathe, and her whole body seizes with a strange sense of paralysis.

Bede seems to be caught up in it too, wavering with some sort of emotion, before he bows to the three of them, all arrogance lost in the process. “Right then. I’ll be going now.”

The man turns on his heels and walks away. The feeling clawing at Koharu’s chest dissipates as he walks away from them. Ease takes a hold of her, allowing her to breathe as the man slips away.

She turns to Leon…and is surprised to see him looking after the man, gaze lingering. There’s a thoughtful look to his eyes, one that Koharu rarely sees him wear, and she watches how the lines of his face mold his expression into one of mystery.

Then, he turns to look at her, grinning a radiant grin, and Koharu feels all her nerves wash away as he claps her shoulder.

“That one’s a funny one,” Leon says, dropping his voice down to a conspiring whisper as Gou joins them. “He’s a Clairvoyant, if you couldn’t already tell.”

“A Clairvoyant?” Gou raises his eyebrows. “I heard Clairvoyants are pretty rare in Galar. Especially after all the witch hunts wiped them out way back when.”

“You would think so,” Leon agrees. “But that boy’s probably a descendant of a witch hunt survivor. Seems he’s got a power you can’t underestimate as well.”

Koharu feels Gou’s shoulder lean against her own. She scowls at him but Gou remains undeterred. “What kind of power would make even the Champion fear him?” the man asks.

“Precognition.” Leon answers without hesitation. “Future sight.”

“Seeing into the future?” Koharu guesses. “That’s…pretty rare, isn’t it?”

“I guess,” Leon shrugs. “I haven’t met many Clairvoyants myself. But, for all the ones I’ve seen, I’ve never heard of them having powers like that. The only other future seer I’ve ever heard about is said to live in Unova. However, she apparently deals in prophecies, not foreknowledge.”

“I see…” She gently pushes Gou away, ignoring the boy’s pout as he steps backwards and out of her personal space. “Even if that man is some fancy-dancy Clairvoyant, he’s still an arrogant bastard with his head up his ass.”

Their escort laughs at that, chuckling so hard he nearly wheezes. Koharu blinks at the man, raising an eyebrow, when Leon shakes his head.

“Don’t mind me,” he says with a sharp inhale of air. “That’s just the funniest thing I’ve heard all day.”

The woman glances at her companion. Gou shrugs in return, clearly as baffled as Leon wipes away tears from his face.

“I needed that,” he says, looking to Koharu and smiling brilliantly. “Thanks, Koharu.”

She warms a little at the praise, feeling a slight flush take her cheeks as the man reaches over to ruffle her hair. “It’s nothing, I guess.”

“A little humor goes a long way,” Leon rebuts in an instant. “Never lose your laughter, you two.”

Koharu shares another look with her best friend. Gou is pursing his lips here, looking almost startled, and she can read the trepidation on his face as clearly as words written in a book.

She opens her mouth to talk to Leon, to ask him why he seems so _weird_ all of a sudden, when a voice deep and low interrupts her.

“Leon,” comes a voice both familiar and yet strange all the same, “how nice to see you here before the ceremony.”

Beside her, Gou perks up immediately. He spins on his heels with stars lighting up his gaze.

When Koharu follows his lead she is surprised to see two individuals of familiarity standing before them.

Sordward and Shielbert – more affectionately known as Sord and Shiel by Gou only - stand before them in the blue and red tailcoats they are infamous for. The Adamantine twins regard the three coolly, their gazes lingering on Gou and Koharu.

“What are you guys doing here?” Gou asks, hopping closer to the pair and beaming as Sordward smiles down at him. “I didn’t know you were going to show up here!”

“We’re just here to make sure things run smoothly for our dear Champion,” Shielbert says. “After all, there’s a lot of work that go into events like this.”

“Managing the vendors, gathering last minute payments, making sure security is doing their job and dealing with unwanted presences, the likes,” Shielbert rubs a finger to his temple, sighing. “I’m sure you’ve got the easy end of this, Champion.”

“All you have to do is sit pretty and make a speech,” his brother hums. “I’m envious.”

Koharu watches the way Leon’s left eyebrow twitches as he attempts a polite smile. “I have to deal with all the people too, you know. I’ve spent a lot of time building up the publicity for today’s announcement as well.”

“Mm, sure. I suppose that’s definitely of some worth.” Sordward shoots the man a wry smile. Leon frowns at it. Then, Sordward turns his attention to Gou and Koharu. “Well, I see you’ve brought along our heir apparent and his knight as well.”

“Leon wanted us to see his announcement today!” Gou says immediately. “He brought us along to see the show!”

“I see.” Sordward smiles, reaching out to ruffle Gou’s hair and then Koharu’s. “Well, he better hope he doesn’t let you two out of his sight in the time you spend here. I would hate to see something happen to either of you. Especially since you both carry the weight of being of the Riches Conjoint faction on your shoulders.”

Koharu stares at the pair, a shiver running through her. She’s never been as fond of Gou’s benefactors – the ones who crowned him the heir apparent of the Riches Conjoint faction in the first place – but as she watches the way Sordward and Shielbert flick their gazes over Gou and her, she finds herself shuddering. Trepidation rolls like static over her skin, blistering her yet again as she puts her hand to her sword.

Gou, however, only seems at ease, putting a laidback hand on her shoulder as he nods his head.

“Don’t worry,” Gou says, hand to his chest. “Leon will definitely keep us safe.”

“What he said,” Leon nods, crossing his arms and looking pleased with the younger man as he looks to the twins. “I’ll do my best to keep them both safe. Now, is there anything else you would like to discuss? Perhaps something more important than my seeming lack of involvement in today’s announcement?”

There’s a look of annoyance on Sordward’s face. Shielbert, however, steps forward to give a little bow as he says: “Champion, it would do you well to remember who you’re talking to. However, since our heir and his knight are in your care, I’ll overlook your transgression for the moment.”

Leon seems to stiffen at that, narrowing his eyes, but he makes no further retorts as he pulls Koharu and Gou close to him.

“You are right in that we’ve come here to discuss other business, however.” Sordward says. He puts his arms around his back, looking out into the crowd around them. “For example, there’s a little parasite who has been searching for us all day. Which is a bother for us. Especially since we have no time to deal with her antics if she decides to make a fuss. Perhaps you’ve met her, Champion. She’s Peterson’s younger sister.”

“Rosemary?”

“That’s the one.” Sordward runs a hand through his ponytail. “If you see her, please do contact us.”

Leon nods. The Adamantine twins look amongst each other, nodding, and then say their farewells. They begin to depart, backs turning on the trio, when Shielbert pauses to look over his shoulder.

“Champion,” he says, “I’ll have you know she’s going by Marnie again. It seems she adopted that name just after two of my employees went missing. I trust you know what that means, correct?”

Leon’s frown sinks into his face until it becomes nothing more than a cavern. “I do,” he says, a tone of vivid disapproval lurking in his voice. Koharu looks at him, intrigued, but the man shakes his head at her as he replies to the twins: “Rest assured, I will do my duties if I find her.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Sordward and Shielbert walk off, their tailcoats swishing behind them, and by the time they melt into the crowd Gou is already jumping on the balls of his feet, looking to Leon with a wry smile on his face.

“Sure seems like they’re depending upon you, Champion,” the black-haired youth teases.

“I wouldn’t call it _depending_ …” Leon shakes his head, urging them onwards. “I merely have an obligation to fulfill their orders.”

“Because they’re some of the most powerful people in the land, right?” Gou nods to himself. “My dads truly are a force to be reckoned with.”

Leon gives a dry laugh at that, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and then herds them along. Gou grabs Koharu’s hand, dragging her alongside him, and she can only sigh as she agrees to his unspoken request, a hand hovering back upon her hilt.

The three of them wander around for quite some time, Leon pointing out the sights and sounds of the city – “I used to visit that flower shop when I was younger, did you know?”, “That’s the Corviknight Taxi Station, go there if you ever need a lift to another city, okay?”, “There’s a uniform store just down the street from here if you ever want to dress up like a gym leader too!” – before he is interrupted by the appearance of a newcomer.

“Champion!”

Koharu watches as a dark-skinned woman appears before them, calling to Leon by his title as she appears with a flourish. Bright blue eyes look over the three of them, black hair striped with cerulean flowing as she comes to a stop before them.

“Sir Champion,” the stranger says, bowing to Leon. “It looks like it’s time to start the proceedings.”

“Just call me Leon as always, Nessa,” the man responds, smiling kindly. “No need to keep up appearances in front of these two.”

The lady straightens with a nod of her head. “Nice to meet you,” she tells Gou and Koharu as they send her questioning looks. She offers them both a hand. “I’m Lady Nessa. I’m the current gym leader of Hulbury.”

“Current?” Koharu asks. “Are you being succeeded by someone then?”

Nessa gives a polite laugh. “Something like that.” She pauses. “Tell me, do you know anything about the Major League and the Minor League?”

The red-haired woman shakes her head. She hasn’t heard of them before. However, before Nessa can start explaining more, Leon cuts in with a shake of his head and a wave of his hand.

“You said it was time to start the proceedings, did you not?” Leon asks. “I don’t want to keep anyone waiting then. You can explain to them about this some other time.”

“Ah, right,” Nessa beckons the three of them to follow her. They obey, pursuing her to the western gate that would lead to distant Turffield. A handful of adults in flashy uniforms have already gathered there, greeting Leon with exuberant grins as they clap him on the back and give warm welcomes to Gou and Koharu.

“I see you’ve brought along some kids this time, Lee,” a man as tall as a giant huffs with a cheerful grin, hunching over Koharu as he observes the pair.

“They’re cute,” a woman with silvery hair says, her stoic face suggesting otherwise.

“Indeed they are!” A plump woman with white hair coos, positively doting over Gou and Koharu with her hands to her face.

Leon holds up his hands. “Now, now,” he says, “you all will have time to talk with these two later. For now, we shouldn’t hold up this very important announcement anymore, should we?”

“Mm…” A man wearing a straw hat nods in agreement, an Eldegoss floating at his side.. “Good point. Chatting can always come later. For now, let’s get this thing going.”

“Right.” Leon grins his dazzling grin, grabbing Gou’s and Koharu’s hands as he is led by the group of adults onto a silver platform. Koharu sidles by the man’s side as she ascends the steps of the platform comes to overlook a crowd eagerly awaiting the sight of their Champion.

“Leon! Leon! Leon!”

A chant instantly arises at the sight of the dark-skinned man. Koharu instantly wants to shrink from Leon’s side, shying from the attention she’s gaining merely by standing at the Champion’s side, when a grin from Gou reassures her. The boy mouths something to her – likely, _“Isn’t this cool?”_ – and she does her best to look exasperated as Leon pulls them down a second set of stairs.

At either side of them stand two long strips of people, each side parted by gold stanchions threaded with thick burgundy velvet rope. Trainers wearing uniforms that look similar to that of the adults that travel in a line behind them keep the crowds from bursting though. Fearsome looking Pokemon like Garchomp and Honchkrow stand beside their trainers, glaring into the cheering crowds with threats of violence should anyone choose to storm past them.

They proceed with striding steps, Leon guiding Koharu and Gou as he progresses. His name leaves the lips of every individual in sight, a raucous cheer waving through the crowd again and again as the Galarian champion crosses their sight.

Trying to distract herself from the anxiety eating at her, Koharu keeps her hand tightly on her hilt and looks out into the crowd of people to try and ease her nerves. There, she sees many unfamiliar faces stuck in the crowd, each of whom stick out to her purely due to Koharu’s curiosity as she catches sight of them.

One of those people is a pretty woman with red ribbons stringing her black hair into twin ponytails. She, unlike the rest of the crowd, seems to be unfocused on the Champion striding in front of her, a Morpeko on her shoulder as she looks for…something. Koharu glimpses her for only a few seconds before she disappears into the crowd, vanishing like a shadow in the people surrounding her.

The next people of interest are a red-haired woman, a purple-haired man who looks eerily similar to Hop, and a brown-haired man smiling widely at the sight of Leon. The three only catch her eyes because she’s seen them in pictures Leon’s showed her before and, when she turns to look at the man in question, she sees Leon waving wildly at the three of them, confirming her suspicions. The trio wave back at Leon, beaming, and Koharu smiles as the boy who must be Leon’s younger brother looks at her.

What she doesn’t expect, however, is that way his golden eyes – so warm like Leon’s only a second ago – harden when he locks gazes with her, something cold flickering within. She shivers, quickly ripping her gaze away, and wonders how someone so related to Leon could make her feel uneasy so quick.

The last people she comes to stare at is a sight that comes at a bit of a surprise to her. Bede, standing with what looks to be a brown-haired woman, is pointing in Koharu’s (or Leon’s) general direction. The white-haired man is whispering something to his companion, smirking with that air of arrogance he always seems to wear, when the woman tenses. The stranger shoots him a look of narrowed eyes, seemingly conflicted, before she is tugged away by Bede and out of Koharu’s view.

Ahead of them, Motostoke Stadium looms into view. The giant building stands proudly as sixteen differently colored banners hang from its walls, fluttering in the wind like ribbons as they show off different symbols meant to represent each individual type of Pokémon. A white eye with a pink and blue pupil for psychic types…a purple tear drop for poison…a silver and orange fist outlined in white for fighting…Koharu can’t help but admire them all as she passes them.

Finally, they push past glass doors guarded by a man wearing a sweat-filled towel and step into a lobby full of League trainers. Staff wearing black and white uniforms, sunglasses, and white caps nod to Leon, leading him, Koharu and Gou through doors that say “VIP only”. Once past those doors, they emerge onto a flat stage of fake green grass painted with lines of white. The adults that had been traveling at Koharu’s back – the gym leaders, she now assumes – linger behind, waving good luck to her as she glances back.

Leon leads the pair into the center of the stadium, urging them up a pedestal of silver. He pauses at the top, releasing Gou’s and Koharu’s hands.

Koharu can feel the cold sinking into her palm as she watches people pour into the rafters above, hundreds upon thousands of gazes watching as the Champion himself welcomes them with a wave of his hands.

“Now,” he says, winking at Koharu and Gou both, “let’s get this show on the road!”

* * *

By the time they arrive in Motostoke, Hop is already sleeping on Victor’s shoulder and Sonia is nodding off, barely able to keep herself awake as she leans against the walls of the passenger coach. The brown-haired man has to shake the both of them away as the speakers blare with a message to depart from the train, practically shoving them out the doors to catch up with the tail end of the line waiting to go outside.

Once they step out from the train and onto the train platform, Hop is quick to rub away a line of drool on his face as Sonia pinches herself awake.

“Are we there ‘et?” Sonia asks in a slur of words, sounding more drunk than awake.

“Mm, I think so,” Hop yawns into an open palm, shuffling to his feet as he yanks Sonia up with him.

Victor scowls at the both of them. “While you two were sleeping the day away I stayed awake for the three of us to arrive on time.”

They both blink sleepy looks at them. Victor can’t help but think that maybe Hop is a little bit closer to being Sonia’s brother than Leon’s. He certainly acts like it, imitating Sonia’s shuffle and acting just as zombie-like as the pair follow Victor through the station.

A crowd of people awaits them when they emerge. The loud chatter seems to startle both Hop and Sonia awake, the two of them shaking off their sleepy stupor to stare with amazement.

Motostoke City is awake and trembling with enthusiasm. Aristocrats and the commonfolk alike are crawling through the streets with something pleasant, a delightful hum buzzing through the air.

Overhead, a Corviknight Taxi swoops by. On it, Victor spots a dark-skinned woman and a younger woman with a Delphox. The pair are but blurs against the harsh sunlight of the cloudless sky, making him squint with screwed up features as they descend ever-so-slowly to the ground just a dozen feet away from him.

Nearby, a black-haired woman with pigtails and a Morpeko on her shoulder is talking to an aristocrat couple. The man and woman – dressed in fine silks and adorned in necklaces made from ice crystals doubtlessly harvested from a Galarian Darmanitan – sneer at her. However, the green-eyed stranger is undeterred as she makes her greetings. Then, she turns on her heels and walks away, not even giving the complementary curtsy that is to accompany the end of a social meeting.

Victor gets the sense that she is out of touch with social customs, especially since the couple she has parted with look terribly aghast at her bad mannerisms.

Regardless, he dallies little in the splendor of people-watching and finds more fascination in the attractions held on every avenue of interest. Shops with open doors welcome people with eager calls of hospitality, inviting the curious eye with promises of beautiful wares and gallant services. Women handing out bouquets of roses and men displaying jewelry trinkets flank the sidewalks, each attending to booths of colored banners that proudly display an interest in the fishing of consumers.

Partaking in the bounty of the festivities are the Pokémon of Motostoke. Tamed Pokémon as well as Pokémon seemingly owned by no one flock to fountains of sparkling water and dishes of food to partake in meals left for the taking. Galarian Linoone scuffle with daring Tranquill over scraps of meat tossed out by a local butcher. Meanwhile, a flock of Cottonee bounce happily around a bowl of berries, seemingly thanking the procurer of the commodity with shouts of joy.

The sight alone is enough to make Victor release his Gogoat out before him. His grass-type Pokémon appears with a flourish, stomping his hooves and bleating at the sight of the crowd before him. Victor runs his hand through the leaves growing along the spine of its back, rustling them with a smile before he eases himself onto his Pokémon’s back.

“Hey,” Hop says beside him with a scowl, “that’s cheating! Who said you get to ride a Pokémon and we don’t?”

Victor holds up his hands. “I’m not stopping you from doing anything. Feel free to call out Flygon and give her a ride.”

“You know Flygon isn’t a land mount.” Hop scowls. “She’s not for walking.” He edges closer to Gogoat, a devious glimmer in his eyes as he follows with: “But Gogoat sure looks like it has extra space on its back to ride on…”

As if sensing his intentions, Gogoat bucks at Hop. The man skitters away, pouting like a child as he crosses his arms and huffs. “Fine! Be that way! See how I care!”

“Children, children,” Sonia’s voice comes from beside them. “What am I to do with you?”

Victor glances over at their older companion…and finds that she has already summoned her Sceptile, lazing on its back with a knowing smile.

Hop shoots her an indignant look, betrayal fresh on his face. He pinches the bridge of his nose, visibly scowling, and both Sylvans can’t help but laugh at his annoyance.

“You both are mean.”

“No, we’re just efficient.” Sonia looks him over. “Maybe if you caught a Pokémon you could actually ride upon, you wouldn’t be having this issue.”

Hop splutters. “Well, I, uh… _look_ , what you guys are doing is just plain cheating! It’s unfair!”

“Should’ve brought Dubwool with you, pal,” Victor says at the other’s flustered expense.

Sonia laughs beside him and even Sceptile seems to join in. The dragon descendant chortles with a benign happiness, bushy tail swishing as it carries its owner forward.

Left to exploring the streets, they take to doing their best to explore, walking along stone brick pathways and taking steam-powered lifts to move to and fro within the city limits.

Billboards and advertisements follow their every move, displays of colorful pixels describing the latest trends in make-up and clothing with pretty-looking people. Hop at one point stops to admire a model flexing his muscles for some water bottle ad. Sonia admires the man alongside him and Victor is left shaking his head at the both of them.

Then, the scent of something savory flows Victor’s way. The smell of a variety of foods – lobster and tuna sandwiches, chips and burgers – hits him strongly and makes his stomach grumble.

His companions seem to smell it too, their stomachs gurgling loudly alongside his as they follow after him.

“I’m hungry,” Hop moans, elbowing Sonia. “Can you cook me something?”

The woman elbows him back, huffing. “No, I won’t cook you something. I’m not your chef or anything.” She points at a local grill, recalling her Sceptile. “Look, there’s a good place nearby. Let’s go eat there and enjoy ourselves.”

Sonia gestures them along, walking into the café and moving into a line of people. Hop follows behind her and Victor comes quickly in tow, jumping off his Gogoat and recalling it just as he settles into behind Hop.

“A hamburger and chips for me,” Sonia says.

“I’ll take chips and a rootbeer.” Hop adds after her.

“A cheeseburger for me,” Victor tells the lady at the counter.

The woman nods and begins their order just as Sonia pays for the lot of them. “My treat,” she says in a tone that gives no room for negotiation. Hop doesn’t argue with that and neither does Victor. Once Sonia sets her mind to something, there’s no stopping her, after all.

Wandering to the outskirts of the café, they take a seat at a table sitting under the shade of a white umbrella. The three of them sit in complete comfort, idly enjoying the world around them as they chatter on about various things.

“I used to come here with Leon a lot,” Sonia says, pointing to a clothing store just across from their café. “We used to go in there and try on all the clothes and see just how silly we could look.”

“Really?” Hop looks at her with wide eyes. A waiter brings him his rootbeer and he takes to eagerly sipping on it. “Man, Lee sure loved making mischief in his youth, didn’t he?”

“That he did.” A plate of chips alongside sitting alongside two hamburgers is placed in front of Sonia. The woman is quick to partake in her meal, licking at her fingers just after downing a round of five chips. “But that’s what makes Leon such a great person. He always has a way of putting a smile on your face, doesn’t he?”

Hop gives a cheery nod, face brightening. “My big brother is the best at making the world a happy place,” he leans over to snatch one of Sonia’s chips, hand hovering. The woman swats his hand away and he pouts, pulling back with his arms crossed against his chest.

Victor laughs at the both of them, thanking a waitress when she places a cheeseburger before him. He picks it up in his hands, admiring the warmth. The man takes a bite, savoring the juices of the slices of meat, cheese and vegetables packed within.

Beside him, Hop shoots him a look full of desire, a thin trail of saliva slipping from the corner of his lips. Victor stops munching on his cheeseburger to shoot him a knowing smirk, devouring his food. Hop’s stomach growls in protest and the boy flounders, falling on the table top with a whimper.

Then, as if answering his calls, a waiter comes by to deliver a basket of chips. Hop’s eyes widen and immediately takes to digging in, heedless of the looks shot his way.

“So,” Victor starts, grabbing a stick of gold from Hop’s plate and tossing it into his mouth, “what do you think Leon’s announcement today will be about?”

Hop shoves his basket of chips away from Victor, almost bristling defensively.

“The secret announcement, hm?” Sonia taps her chin. “I’m not too sure myself. Leon didn’t tell me any details.”

Victor reaches again for the basket, teasing.

“So we’re just left in the dark then, are we?” He says.

Hop slaps his hand away, holding the basket to his chest and leaning over it. Victor inches his fingers closer and Hop glares at him. Victor holds up his hands, appeasing his friend’s defensiveness by relenting to eat his burger.

There’s a moment of side-eyeing from Hop. Then, the man says: “I bet the announcement has something to do with that Gou person everyone is talking about.”

Victor looks at him. “Gou?”

“Yeah, didn’t you hear? My brother’s been sporting around some dude our age. He’s the talk of the town. Or, well, city.” Hop waves a hand, downing three chips in one go. He pauses to lick the salt off his fingers, golden eyes narrowing in contemplation. “The thing is, there’s no point to parading around with someone if they don’t serve a purpose.”

“Oh?” Victor looks at him, as does Sonia. Victor sees the curious glimmer in Sonia’s eyes and can’t help but feel like he’s replicating it in his own. Something about the dismissive way Hop speaks his words captivates Victor, making him watch the boy with interest as he continues talking.

“My brother doesn’t just let _anyone_ hang around with him, you know. And see, my bet is that this Gou person plays a vital role in Lee’s upcoming speech because of that.”

“Because he’s toting Gou around?”

“Not just Gou but a knight too.”

Here, Sonia speaks. “A knight? As in…someone dressed in a costume?”

“No, she calls herself a proper knight.” Hop leans back in his seat. His face catches in the shadows of the umbrella sitting over them, gold eyes glinting as he says: “My brother has even appointed her with that status himself. As I hear it, Lee’s one of her two masters. The kind she’s unable to disobey.”

Sonia stares at him. Victor joins in with the woman’s silence, watching Hop. The man meets both of their gazes with a smile. His knees are pulled to his chest on his chair, arms wrapped around to give a place for his left cheek to rest. His head is tilted to his side, a smile of cold stars and ice crystals fluttering from his lips as he stares, golden irises glistening.

“You make it sound as if Leon has enslaved her,” Sonia says, her words somehow tiptoeing in tone.

“Enslaved? No.” Hop shakes his head, his smile popping with glitter and raindrops. “More like she’s chosen that path herself.”

Victor settles his burger down onto the plate before him, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand as he asks: “And how would you know this?”

His best friend smiles icicles. “Rumors.”

A hovering silence sets the three of them staring. Something heavy encases the air, a burning chill seething an otherwise pleasant day. Victor stares at Hop, then Sonia, then Hop again, suddenly feeling as if he’s been dropped into a cage and is peering through silver bars.

And then a flock of Wingull flutter overhead, their shadows slipping across the three of them, and the strange sensation captivating Victor dissipates in an instant.

The sound of a bell rings throughout the city. Victor turns his head towards the sound, noticing the way everyone around him pauses to do the same.

Excitement whips the air into a frenzy. People are immediately fleeing the vicinity, migrating north. Victor’s gaze follows after them, curious only because he, too, wants to ride the high of excited ecstasy that pricks the air.

“Time to get going, I think,” Sonia says with a lazy smile. “It sounds like the procession’s about to start.”

“Should we go then?”

“Mm.”

They abandon their meal to the pleasure of a nearby pair of Pidoves. The gray pigeons coo at their retreat, picking at Victor’s almost-finished hamburger and his basket of chips.

“Don’t worry buddy,” Hop says at his forlorn glance, holding up his own basket secreted away in his hands, “we can share.”

“Thanks,” Victor grins at him, accepting a huge handful, and when Hop squawks in indignation his grin only widens.

Sonia gives them both an exasperated sigh before beckoning them both in the direction of the crowd. They nod. Hop bumps his shoulder, fingers dancing over Victor’s hand to steal the tail end of some stolen chips. He shoves them in his mouth, glowering, and Victor’s grin turns into a scowl as he watches Hop lick his fingers triumphantly.

Munching on the chips he has left in his possession (and protecting them from Hop’s greedy hands of spite), Victor follows Sonia as she leads them through the ever-growing crowd of people.

The group wind their way through the streets of Motostoke, the sun shining down upon them, and Victor is quick to note that it’s not just people who are being drawn to the northern parts of the city. As if curious by the racket their human brethren are throwing, the Pokémon of many a trainer are quick to peer around. Among the crowd of Pokémon, Victor spots a Delphox eyeing its surroundings with cautious wary and a chittering Morpeko which growls from the shoulders of the girl it occupies.

Up above, a pack of Zigzagoon stare from their perch upon a flower shop rooftop. The beasts leer at the humans below, shaking their tails and sticking their tongues out at any who dare to stare at them. When Victor catches their gazes, they sneer, barking, and he finds himself quickly losing interest as a roar shakes the crowd before him.

Striding down a street left empty by the presence of stanchions and trainers flanked by big, scary Pokémon, is the Champion himself. The man is walking with two others at his side – the alleged Gou and his lady knight, Victor assumes, noting the way they are both a man and woman a piece – and behind him follow what can only be the gym leaders of Galar.

Hop whistles beside him. “Sure looks like my big bro’s got quite the following, huh?”

Victor nods. “Well, he is quite popular.” He smiles a thin smile, feeling a muscle twitch somewhere within his face. “Everyone here loves him.”

“Of course they do. My big bro’s the best!” Hop smiles too. However, unlike Victor’s, who smiles with an edge of dull glass, his smile is of bright things – glitter and rainbows, sunshine and stars. “He’s the strongest trainer in all of Galar! Who _wouldn’t_ like him?”

Victor opens his mouth to that, about to say something foolish, when he notices that the lady knight at Leon’s side is looking in their direction.

Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that Hop had told him that the woman – Koharu? – was a knight, he wouldn’t have been able to guess it from her looks alone. Sure, she wore a rapier at her side and, sure, she had the posture of someone always at the ready to serve, but there was a disconnect from the knights Victor had heard stories of and the woman who called herself one. If she was a knight, shouldn’t she be wearing armor in place of a dress? If she likened herself to the servants of ancient royalty, should not she wear the crests of her masters on her shoulders and look less nervous at the crowd shouting all around her?

Victor doesn’t have the answers to such questions, but likes to pretend he does. He likes to pretend a lot.

Turning his attention away from the lady knight, he settles his gaze on the man on Leon’s other side, deems him uninteresting with his merry smile and naïve aura, and then finds his gaze caught by the appearance of a woman he’s seen before.

The stranger with the Morpeko and red ribbons in her hair is shifting her way through the crowd, weaving through it with eyes looking everywhere but the scene of interest, and it isn’t long before Victor loses sight of her.

He raises his eyebrows, curious towards her presence, but finds his gaze snapped up by one of the crowd members she’d passed by: a man and woman guarded by a Delphox. The pair seem to be arguing over something, with the woman narrowing her eyes and sporting the body posture of a cornered Lucario. Across from her, the man tugging at her wrist is at complete ease, seemingly uncaring about the way the woman before him is looking like she’s going to bolt.

Victor thinks about stepping past the stanchions blocking his path to get to the pair, concerned for the woman’s safety, when the man tugs the other away and they disappear quickly into the crowd. The Delphox trails behind them, looking visibly distressed, and when Victor thinks about paving the way to greeting them he is stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

He peers up, locking eyes with Sonia. The woman is staring at him, expression devoid of any emotion, but it doesn’t stop the sudden pit of nerves that grows in his stomach.

The red-haired woman lifts her hand from his shoulder, the movement hesitant, before she nods her head to the right. Victor looks in that direction, noticing the crowd around them heading towards the mouth of the Motostoke Stadium, and when he returns his gaze to Sonia he finds she’s already moved ahead.

Hop claps his shoulder, gesturing him forward, and Victor nods in assent. The pair tail after Sonia, somehow sticking right behind her even as they are pushed and shoved by the people all around them.

Eventually, they make it to the entrance of the Motostoke Stadium: the area of gathering for the spectacle they are about to behold. A man at the entrance dressed in the attire of Motostoke’s gym uniform – an outfit consisting of a white shirt and white pants dyed with flames – stops them. Sonia holds out three tickets as he looks them over, verifying the authenticity of their seats. Then the three of them are welcomed into the stadium’s massive lobby and left to their own devices.

“We should get to our seats quickly,” Sonia says to them. “The whole stadium’s going to fill up. And fast.”

“Right.” Hop nods. “Where are our seats again?”

Sonia scowls at him, flashing him her tickets. He takes one, passing Victor another, and then nods to himself.

Victor peers at his own ticket, noticing the number noted – A105, a front-row seat, no doubt – and then looks to Hop. The man grins, a hand slapping upon his back as he pushes Victor ahead of him.

“Come on,” he says, “we should go now. And quickly, too. Don’t want to linger too long. We might be packed in like a can of Wishiwashi if we do.”

Behind them, Sonia snorts, and Victor can’t help but grin at the both of them as he’s lead into the stadium’s rafters.

Already, crowds of people are filtering in with excitement buzzing in the air. There are a wide variety of trainers present: Victor can tell by the assortment of foreign clothing and strange Pokémon that, indeed, many individuals from across the world have come to attend. He can see men and woman draped in the furs of what could have once been Ursarings, individuals draped in the colorful attire of Larvesta silks, as well as ladies adorned in the dresses of typical Kantonian fashion.

It bothers Victor, if he’s honest. There’s a lot of things he doesn’t understand about Galarian culture but, while he knows flashy spectacles are the region’s specialty, he can’t quite comprehend why this one draws the eyes of foreigners. Leon was a celebrity, sure, and it was well known that he was popular far and wide for his exploits. He was the undefeated Champion, a man who had yet to be felled by a single trainer in battle. And while that was novel, perhaps even enticing to those foolish enough to try and topple him from his perch, it didn’t quite explain the crowd gathering before him.

Personally, Victor doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand the appeal of attending a ceremony shrouded in secrecy. There was little to no information on what was about to occur. There were rumors, of course. Hop had clued him in on some of them. Gou and his lady knight were supposed to be part of this ceremony, weren’t they? But even that was uncertain, a mere tale spun from the words of a boy whose sources were dubious.

It makes Victor nervous. The announcement to accompany this supposed ceremony could easily range from anything – be it the declaration of a new law for Galarians to oblige or the sudden denouncement of all things related to Pokémon battling. Victor had heard, once, that something like that had happened in Unova once. Some loons known as Team Plasma had declared themselves as the saviors of Pokémon, declaring a war on the citizenry of Unova in the name of protecting monsters “too helpless to save themselves”.

Regardless, this ceremony was of some concern to him. He was curious, of course, but that curiosity was borne from something writhing inside him. He had agreed to attend this announcement ceremony on obligation – after all, Hop’s begging was quite effective when the man put his mind to it – but he was also there to _observe_.

What would Leon say, perched on that stadium the way he is now? The man is waving to the crowd, a grin lighting up his face, and at his side, Prince Gou and his Lady Knight flank him. The gym leaders of Galar – all of whom are expressionless in their own right compared to their champion – hover beside him, four on either side of the small stage he stands. The Champion seems to be soaking in the attention showered upon him, basking in the cheers thrown his way as he entertains his audience with a bow and a kiss.

Somehow, the very sight laid before him makes him feel sick. There’s a creeping sense of nausea that crawls up his throat, an air of uncertainty chasing after him, and he feels his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows.

Something lightly brushes against his hand and he startles when he notices Hop looking at him. The man’s hand is on top of his own, soft to the touch, and Victor flashes him a smile when the man raises his eyebrows in concern.

“I’m fine,” he tells Hop without thinking as he finds his seat, A105, “just nervous. There’s so many people around here, y’know?”

“I feel you,” Hop says, occupying seat A106. “There’s _way_ too many people here.”

“What can you expect?” Sonia chuckles, taking a seat in what can only be A104. Victor retracts his arm from the arm rest as she settles beside him, letting her have the spot instead. “Leon’s super popular.”

“Stupid popular,” Hop agrees. “Lee’s the best trainer around, after all.”

“The undefeatable champion,” the woman says with a lilt of laughter. “I reckon he’s going to put on a show soon enough.”

“Very soon,” Hop grins, looking at a nearby clock. “After all, it’s nearly time to start.”

As he says that, a noticeable hush falls across the stadium. The lights flickering overhead dim to darkness, allowing the stadium to collapse into a state of eternal night. Victor squints at the shroud of black, trying to make out anything other than the light of a Charmander’s flaming tail tip, before a giant spotlight flashes down below. It illuminates Leon, Prince Gou, and his lady knight, basking the three of them in an ethereal golden glow as Leon steps down from the stage. He moves alone, moving so far from the stage that the spotlight splits, half focused on him and half-focused on the pair he’s left behind. Above him, on a giant screen almost too big to comprehend, the man’s face appears, captured by the moving lenses of a Rotom drone.

“As many of you know,” Leon says, speaking to a microphone embedded in his ears, “Galar is split into many factions. Namely, the Nouveau Riche, the Vieux Riche, the Riches Conjoint and peasantry. There is also me, the region’s champion, who belongs to each faction as well as none of them at once.

“My role here is to ensure the prosperity of Galar,” he continues, “and to do that, I have to ensure each and every faction finds its happiness in the voice commanding it. For the Nouveau Riche, we have Chairman Rose and his son Sir Bede to voice the opinions of his faction. For the Vieux Rich, we have Sir Sordward of the Darius house of nobility and his son as well to guide it. However, for the Riches Conjoint faction, which founds itself on leading the common folk of Galar, there is no such leader to be found.”

A pause. Leon lets his words sink in, and then continues.

“In times past, Galar has neglected its poorer citizenry in favor of stigmatism and believing in the rumors of times long past. The aristocratic factions have flourished, even benefitted, from resting upon the backs of the common people. In the past, this has sparked wars and revolution. And, it is for that reason that I wish to appoint a leader.”

Leon sweeps forward, the red cape wrapped around his shoulders fluttering behind him. The crowd above him is captivated by his every word, hanging on the sentences he speaks like a lifeline. Intrigue sparkles in the air as those in attendance murmur to themselves, evidently curious as to where this speech will end up.

“The commonfolk need a leader,” he says. “This is a realization that has been long in the making. Those who have no money to their name need to rely on those who do to make decisions for them. Therefore, I have had the foresight as Champion to raise a leader who will listen to the voices of the common people and let their voices be known.”

The man turns to face the black-haired man standing tall on the stage behind him. Prince Gou straightens as Leon’s gaze falls upon him, the giant screen split between watching the both of them as Leon approaches.

Walking forward to flank Leon at either side are the gym leaders of Galar. Victor watches as they produce a pillow adorned with a silver crown and pass the items among each other, all the way to Leon himself. The Champion takes the pillow into his hands, approaching Gou with a smile on his face. It’s a kind smile, gentle and reassuring, even, but something about it makes Victor pale considerably.

“Gou Darius, the adopted son of Sir Sordward and the heir apparent to the Riches Conjoint,” Leon says, coming to a stop in front of the man, “do you wish to uphold the vows of the people who’ve chosen you and to become the voice the people of Galar need?”

The man in question doesn’t at all seem surprised by the words recited to him, almost looking _expectant_ of them. Victor watches the way he nods his head, a hand placed over his heart as he declares:

“I have been raised as heir apparent to the Riches Conjoint. It is my duty – and honor – to become the voice of those whose voices have previously gone unheard.” Prince Gou’s words are stiff but sincere, a mixture that Victor suspects has to do with the monotonity of his voice and the passion lingering in his eyes. “Therefore, it would behoove me to accept the position offered before me.”

“And are you willing to lead your faction alongside others, to prevent the reoccurrence of revolution that has plagued Galar’s history and commit to the peace and prosperity of this region?”

“I am willing to do what I must to ensure the prosperity of the commonfolk at no risk to any other faction’s gain. That is my duty as prince and a leader to be.”

“Very well,” Leon nods, raising the crown on the pillow to place atop Prince Gou’s head. “Then from henceforth you shall be known as Gou Darius, prince to the Riches Conjoint as well as its leader. May you serve Galar and its people well.”

Gou kneels before Leon, bowing his head just enough to show respect as Leon adjusts the crown upon his head.

“Thank you Champion for blessing me with this honor.”

Leon’s smile is almost sharp as knives as he says, in response:

“My pleasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part of this chapter (Heading a Fox II) is halfway written at this moment. And I say "halfway" but my estimate keeps changing due to wanting to keep the pacing and flow of the story in-tact without feeling like I'm rushing things or forgetting to add important details. 
> 
> This part has introduced the main cast of this story almost in its entirety. Part 2, however, is where things will really pick up and start to make more sense in regards to some characters :Dc


End file.
